


Some Assembly Required

by Mangaluva



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Really I should say there's lots of Loki and then lots of Bucky, Then there's a lot of Captain America, random oneshots, there's a lot of Thor for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-21 09:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 37,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1545371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangaluva/pseuds/Mangaluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Word Count: 1897</p><p>Main Character(s): Shanta, Loki Laufeyson, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinsson</p><p>Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)</p><p>Notes: So I love this movie beyond all rationality and when wandering the internet in search of more Avengery goodness, I came across TheAvengersHeadcanons, a blog full of finest Avengers plunnies and very fine butts. This is now the first instalment of a collection of Avengers ficlets which may or may not be related to each other.<br/>Also, this fic prominently features Shanta, a character from the headcanons. She’s the little girl that leads Bruce Banner to Black Widow at the beginning of The Avengers, and the headcanons generally hold that Bruce goes back and adopts her sometime after the events of the movie. They also frequently feature Loki doing some kind of rehab/jail time on Earth, locked up Stark Tower in one of Thor’s rooms. Both of those are elements here that you ought to know about. Post-movie, so some spoilers are inherent. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1897
> 
> Main Character(s): Shanta, Loki Laufeyson, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinsson
> 
> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Notes: So I love this movie beyond all rationality and when wandering the internet in search of more Avengery goodness, I came across TheAvengersHeadcanons, a blog full of finest Avengers plunnies and very fine butts. This is now the first instalment of a collection of Avengers ficlets which may or may not be related to each other.  
> Also, this fic prominently features Shanta, a character from the headcanons. She’s the little girl that leads Bruce Banner to Black Widow at the beginning of The Avengers, and the headcanons generally hold that Bruce goes back and adopts her sometime after the events of the movie. They also frequently feature Loki doing some kind of rehab/jail time on Earth, locked up Stark Tower in one of Thor’s rooms. Both of those are elements here that you ought to know about. Post-movie, so some spoilers are inherent. Enjoy!

Shanta has only been living at Stark Tower for a few weeks, and still gets lost easily. One day, she runs into a room she doesn’t know after getting off of the elevator on the wrong floor. Instead of running into Doctor Banner’s kitchen, she finds herself in a very dark room.

(She shouldn’t have been able to get in there at all, Tony swore later. But he couldn’t figure out how the door had gotten unlocked, nor why Jarvis’ security protocols hadn’t alerted him that somebody had entered the room. Perhaps the room’s inhabitant had more power left in him than they realized, but if that was true why was he still there?)

She’s about to back out when she spots some movement in the darkness. Someone is sitting in a chair next to the drawn curtains. When he stands she sees that he is very tall, as tall as Uncle Thor or Uncle Steve, but his hair is dark unlike them, and he has funny dark clothes. She clutches the flowers she picked out of the greenhouse as he steps over to her.

“Lonely little girl,” he says softly. “Why do you wander here?” Shanta is surprised and pleased to hear him speaking in Hindi. She still isn’t very good at English, and while she’s desperate to learn it’s nice to hear a few sentences that she understands completely.

(He speaks the Alltongue, Thor explains later. It is heard by anyone as their native tongue. Steve had been wondering why the speech in Stuttgart had been in English. It had just seemed obnoxious, at the time. Now he wishes that it was a skill more people could learn. It would help people understand one another better, he thinks.)

“I’m looking for Doctor Banner,” she says, returning easily to her native tongue, though she’s tried hard for the past few weeks to speak only English. “I got lost. I think I’m on the wrong floor.” She shuffles her feet, looking around as her eyes adjust to the darkness. There’s a lot of green. “My name is Shanta,” she declares. “Who are you?”

“I know about you, Shanta,” the man says, stepping closer. “Child-minds shout their thoughts so loud, clear and direct... you are trying to make this place your home.”

Shanta nods, clutching the flowers to her chest. She thinks the man is a little creepy. “Doctor Banner brought me here. He’s very nice. I...” she looks around, as if someone else might be in the room, and whispers conspiratorially. “I want him to be my new baba.” She giggles nervously, slamming a hand over her mouth as if trying to hide the words again. The man also laughs, short and cold.

“But your baba died!” he exclaims. “And your maa, and your brothers! Your home is gone and has been for years!”

Shanta scowls. She doesn’t know why the man knows these things or is talking about her family, but she thinks he’s being mean.

“That’s why I want Doctor Banner to be my new family,” she says firmly. “The others are all very nice and told me to call them aunties and uncles, like they’re family, but Doctor Banner is nicest of all so I want him to be my new baba. This place is new and scary, but I am not afraid because I am with people that I love. I think that is enough for a family, people that you love. What about you mister? Where’s your family? Are they here?”

“I have none,” the man says, but he looks away from Shanta, like grown-ups always do when they’re lying. They never look you in the eye. “You think it is so easy, child, to simply make a family?”

“Why not?” Shanta simply asks. “Y’know, if someone loves you, you ought to love them back. Then you’re like family, and both of you have somebody, so you don’t have to be lonely. That’s why I want Doctor Banner to be my baba, so we don’t ever have to be lonely again. I don’t see why it’s got to be hard.”

The flowers abruptly vanish from her hands. She looks up to see the tall man holding them in his hand. They burst into flames and she screams.

“Be silent,” the man says dismissively. “These are finer by far than your pathetic blooms.” The fire dies away and the flowers are now bigger and look like they’re made of gold and silver. They’re very pretty, much prettier than any flower Shanta’s ever seen. The man leans over to hand them back to her. “Do not be a fool, girl. Doctor Banner will not be your baba.”

Shanta grips the flowers hard enough to almost crush them as tears fill her eyes. The man whispers something in her ear and she runs from the room.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving Loki alone in the dark once more.

 

~

 

“There you are,” Bruce says, unable to help smiling as Shanta runs out of the lift. She shrieks and giggles as he catches her and picks her up, taking her through to the kitchen. “I was about to send Jarvis looking for you- I’m hungry, aren’t you? How about sandwiches for lunch?”

“Yes!” Shanta says excitedly. Bruce sits her down on the worktop and heads for the breadbin. Shanta stops him by thrusting a bundle of flowers under his nose. “For you!”

“For me?” Bruce repeats, taking the flowers. They’re silver and gold and like nothing he’s ever seen, and have a beautiful fragrance. “Thank you very much. They’re beautiful.” He crosses to the sink to fill a glass of water for them, and on the way taps one of the ever-present computer panels and asks Jarvis to call up Tony for him. He puts the flowers in a glass of water and manages to finish Shanta’s sandwiches before Tony picks up. Thor’s there too; it looks like they’re in the garage, taking the Asgardian through the finer points of the internal combustion engine.

“ _Wassup, big guy?_ ” Tony says. Thor waves to the camera before returning to examining some holographic engine schematics.

“Your greenhouse has some interesting plants,” Bruce says, picking up the glass of flowers and holding it in front of the screen for the others to see. “Is it safe for Shanta to be running around in there?”

“ _Jarvis’ll keep her out of any rooms with poisonous plants,_ ” Tony says, “ _but are you sure those came from the greenhouse? I don’t recognize ‘em._ ”

Thor suddenly loomed into view, staring at the flowers with a frown. “ _Those are from the plains of Asgard,_ ” he says. “ _They cannot be grown in this realm. Where could she have obtained them?_ ”

“Shanta?” Bruce asks, turning to the girl who is still sitting on the worktop, shovelling down a ham and cheese sandwich. “Where did you get these? Chew and swallow before you speak,” he admonishes her as she opens her mouth. She nods, chewing rapidly. Bruce catches Tony grinning at him.

“Strange man in dark room give them to me!” Shanta declares after swallowing heavily.

“Strange man?” Bruce asks. She nods, stretching her arms up.

“Very tall, funny clothes, all dark,” she says. “Sitting all alone in dark room below. Lots of green. Very strange man.”

Bruce drops the glass. Over the _crash_ , he hears Tony swearing and Thor saying something that includes his brother’s name, before the screen goes blank as both run out of the garage. Bruce clenches his fists, fighting shock and rage- pure, sudden anger at whatever _idiot_ was responsible for Shanta being able to get into _Loki’s_ room-

He turns his back on Shanta and clutches the worktop, noticing with alarm that it crumbles under his hands. No, he can’t, not here-

“He say odd things,” Shanta says, watching her foster father nervously. She has never seen him transform before, and won’t know what’s happening until it’s too late to run away-

“I think he lonely,” she continues, scooting around the worktop until Bruce can see her. “I say this, and he give me flowers and a word.”

“A... a word?” Bruce says shakily as fear and panic join the dangerous emotional cocktail that is causing his muscles to bulge. On Asgard, words are power, he’s been told, which is why Loki is a sorcerer of such great power. His words are as powerful here as they are on Asgard, and there is no telling what a single word from him could do to a child like Shanta. What did he say...?

“Shanta, you have to leave,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around himself, as if trying to hold himself in, which he knows will be futile in a few moments. Shanta doesn’t, instead stepping closer, biting her lip out of what seems to be nervousness rather than fear.

“Daddy,” she blurts out. “He says it is word I can call you, if you like. Can I call you daddy, Doctor Banner? Is daddy good word?”

It is only seconds later that Tony and Thor burst into the room, Thor with Mjolnir at the ready and Tony clicking his Mk VII bracelets into place. They had not expected to see that Bruce was still Bruce, sitting on his kitchen floor and hugging Shanta to him, tears leaking out of his eyes as vivid green faded away.

“It’s a very good word,” he’s saying, rocking Shanta slightly. “It’s a very, very good word. I’d given up on ever hearing it. Thank you, Shanta.”

“Then you are daddy now?” Shanta says, flinging her arms around Bruce’s neck when he nods. “Is very good! Thank you!” Bruce looks up at Thor and Tony over Shanta’s head.

“Tell your brother, too,” he says quietly to Thor. “Thank you.”

 

~

 

Every time Thor has visited Loki, his younger brother has sat in silence and in darkness, perversely abandoning all attempt to speak as soon as he was permitted to do so. Today, though, the curtains are open just a chink, and Loki is staring out at a half-constructed skyscraper. The damage of the Battle of Manhattan is being repaired.

“Your words have always held such power, brother,” he says, seating himself on the other chair. “I wish you would use that power for good more often.”

“It’s not that easy,” Loki says quietly. It’s the first time he’s spoken to Thor since his capture. “But why not?”

“It can be easy, if you let me help you,” Thor says. “I have offered time and again. That offer will always be open to you, brother.” He holds out his hand, halfway across the table. Just halfway. He won’t pull Loki out. Loki has to make an effort too. Just a little. Just halfway. He has to take himself to a point where he isn’t alone, just like Bruce Banner did, taking the risk to come back to Manhattan, to get into Tony Stark’s car, to hunt the streets of Kolkata for a little girl.

Loki reaches out and pushes the curtain aside a little more. Maybe he reached just briefly for Thor’s hand, or maybe not. But when he is ready to reach out, Thor’s hand will always be there waiting.

Until the flowers on Bruce Banner’s desk wilt.

(Flowers from Asgard never wilt, and when crushed only bloom back more beautiful.)


	2. All Tony Remembered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Word Count: 703
> 
> Main Character(s): Howard Stark, Tony Stark
> 
> Notes: ...Another AvengersHeadcanons drabble. someonefinallystarted asked for more Howard Stark headcanons, and this happened. Interpretations of Howard Stark are many and variable, but this is my take on his MCU self. No ownie.

It had been one thing to be part of the exciting project to make the world’s most powerful weapon, and quite another to see it used on living people and the subsequent effect on the world. Between the loss of Steve Rogers and the first atomic bomb, 1945 was a sobering year for Howard Stark. He never lost his faith that technology could make the world a better place, and the birth of his son many years later only rejuvenated his drive to improve people’s lives. Some of his experiments were very dangerous, due to the technology of the time. He was willing to risk his own life to create the tech to make it safe for Tony to experiment for himself in the future, but Tony wanted to experiment _now_ , and seeing his young son wandering into his labs always frightened Howard. He panicked, he shouted, and breathed a sigh of relief when Tony was safely out of the line of fire, promising himself he’d make it up to the boy later.

All Tony remembered was that Howard was always busy, and often shouted.

The very first Ark Reactor experiments with Anton Vanko were revolutionary, but they were also extraordinarily dangerous. Howard could still remember being blasted across a room by a mere fragment of the Tessarect, and they were working to recreate that power at a thousand times the size. He could inadvertently take out the whole building. He was grateful that Tony was starting at school, at an expensive, well-recommended school far away from the danger zone. Even if Howard accidentally took out the whole state, Tony would be safe.

All Tony remembered was that his father was happy to see him go.

Howard often only got to see Tony at bedtime, so bedtime stories were his forte. Most were about Steve Rogers, his much-missed friend. Steve had inspired Howard, and he wanted him to inspire Tony too. Steve had proved that heroes were real, and that what truly made people remarkable was what was inside of them. Tony’s brilliance was obvious from a young age, and Howard knew that the boy was one day going to be far smarter than even him. That wasn’t something that someone like Howard Stark would admit, but he thought it was obvious for all to see.

All Tony remembered was that his father had far better things to say about a long-dead soldier than he ever did about his own son.

~

The day that Tony’s son was born, he was elated and he was terrified. He was ecstatic to meet his son, the child that he and Pepper had been waiting months for. He thought the child was the most beautiful, perfect thing he’d ever seen. He’d spent years creating the Ark Reactor and Pepper had made infinitely more wonderful in just nine months. Typical.

But he was afraid because he was still an Avenger. The Earth wasn’t currently at risk, but if there was another alien attack, another supervillain, Tony knew he’d fight. He knew that there was still much work to be done to turn Earth into a safe paradise on a par with Asgard (Tony always did shoot for the stars). He wanted his son to live in that world, but he knew that to do that sometimes he’d have to abandon him. Sometimes he’d have to work instead of play. Sometimes, he’d have to send him away from the fight. His own lonely memories of his father had long made him determined to not be that person, to always put his son first, but how could he if doing so would put at risk the world that he wanted his child to live in?

For the first time in his life, he felt that he truly understood his father, and no matter how much he knew that it would hurt his son to relive his childhood, Tony knew that he might have no choice.

It scared him that the only thing he could think to do was the same thing that Howard had done; leave a recording, in case anything ever happened before he got to explain. To apologize.

History was repeating itself, and he had no choice.


	3. Legendary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Avengers (2012)
> 
> Word Count: 1122
> 
> Main Character(s): Thor Odinsson, Loki Odinsson, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Steve Rogers, Darcy Lewis, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov
> 
> Notes: To anyone who actually read the above line: I give Loki different names depending on what time of his life the fic refers to. Once he’s abandoned the House of Odin, I call him Laufeyson, but this refers to a time when he still thought of himself as an Odinsson. Also, yes, this is a genuine myth they are talking about. No ownie.

Laughter rolled out of the small New York shawarma joint late in the evening. The Avengers’ Friday shawarma lunches had grown into full-day hangouts after the shop savvily started offering bar service in the evenings, and prices for the rest of the populace to get a table on Fridays were through the roof. There was always at least Tony Stark and Bruce Banner to be seen eating there, with anyone else who was in New York, which this week was _everyone_.

Everyone was a little more than usual, too. Jane Foster and her PA, Darcy Lewis, had just moved into Stark Tower—in fact, Jane had almost refused to leave after seeing the Stark Laboratories—and they were celebrating in a proud fusion of Midgardian and Asgardian tradition.

 _Lots_ of drinks.

“...but it was a really nice dress!” Tony was shouting over the uproarious laughter. “Seriously, I thought I looked good.”

“You even managed to shave your legs, as I recall,” Pepper put in. “How did you manage that drunk? I tend to cut myself when I’m _sober_ , and I’m experienced. You never shave your legs.”

“Clearly, I was dedicated to looking good,” Tony insisted.

“That should not come as a surprise to anyone,” Steve laughed, taking a swig from his mug of appletini. Nobody dared call him out on his choice of drinks; besides, since he couldn’t actually get drunk, he preferred drinks with a sweet flavour over anything with any real alcohol content. Tony was making plans to get some really _good_ absinthe in from Spain to test the limits of the super soldier’s metabolism.

“C’mon, like I’m the only guy who’s ever crossdressed?” Tony complained, spreading his arms. Most of the others just laughed at him, but Thor choked on a mouthful of ale and turned an interesting shade of red. Jane grinned as she gave him a sideways glance.

“Y’know, Thor,” she said innocently, “I’ve read a _lot_ of Norse mythology since meeting you. For academic purposes, of course, but there are some really interesting stories in there. I was just reading one about a gang of giants managing to steal Mjolnir...”

“ _That_ story is on Midgard?!” Thor cried, looking horrified. “Who would have told—mmm.” He frowned thoughtfully and drained his glass.

“ _Stole_ Myeh-myeh?” Darcy said curiously. “How’d that happen? And what’s it have to do with— _NO._ No!” She shrieked out a laugh. “ _You_?”

“This sounds interesting,” Clint commented. “C’mon, Miss Foster, what happened?”

“Well, the story says that the giants demanded...” Jane began, but Thor shook his head, cutting her off sharply.

“If this story is to be told, _I_ will tell it,” he said firmly. “I am sure the version that resides on Midgard is... distorted.”

“So tell already!” Tony said, raising his hands in the air. “Hey, Adnan, get us another round of drinks, this sounds like a good story!”

“Well, Mjolnir was indeed stolen by a foul pack of giants,” Thor said, scowling at the thought of his beloved hammer in others’ hands. “In exchange for its return, their leader demanded the hand of the Lady Freya, one of the most beautiful women in all of Asgard. This was something that the lady was not agreeable to. We attempted to convince her at least to go in, to pretend, long enough for a raiding party to take them by surprise and retrieve Mjolnir, but she refused. She suggested that another woman go in her place, but we could find none who were willing.” A little grin found its way onto his face. “I thought the Lady Sif would eviscerate me when I suggested it.”

“They wouldn’t be able to tell another woman apart from Freya?” Bruce asked. Thor shrugged.

“This gang was formed of many of the most monstrous giants,” he said. “The Lady Freya was famous for her beauty, but any Asgardian would be immensely beautiful next to them. So when we were unable to find a willing lady to replace Freya... another suggestion was made.” He bowed his head gratefully to the young man who refilled his tankard and took a long drink to steel himself. “It was suggested that I go in Freya’s place.”

After the laughter had died down somewhat, Pepper managed to choke out, “Who—suggested— _that_?”

“Loki did,” Thor said, looking down into his mug. The name was enough to cause the laughter to die down entirely. “He offered to come along as my bridesmaid. He made a rather dainty lady, too,” he chuckled, now lost in reminiscence. “He was far more enthusiastic about the idea than I was, as you can imagine. He used his magic to enhance our disguises—particularly thickening my wedding veil to hide the fact that I refused to shave!”

“And they bought it?” Natasha asked incredulously. Thor nodded, laughing again.

“Well, a few suspicions cropped up over dinner due to my poor acting skills,” he laughed, “but Loki’s silver tongue saved us both. One of the giants spotted me glaring at their leader as if I wanted to kill him, and Loki told him that the “murderous gleam” in my eye was simply tiredness, for I had been so excited about the wedding that I had not slept for a week!” The Thunder God’s happy laughter was infectious, and giggles and sniggers wound their way around the table.

“So how’d you get Myeh-myeh back?” Darcy asked. Thor nodded.

“They brought Mjolnir out with which to bless the ‘bride’,” he said, “At which point I seized it and ripped off my veil, revealing myself to them! The battle that followed was glorious to behold, I’m sure... or at least, would have been, were my brother and I not still in our dresses...”

“You fought the whole battle still in a _wedding dress_?!” Jane shouted over the others’ laughter. Thor nodded. “The legend didn’t mention that!”

“It didn’t?” Thor asked curiously. “That is odd. That tale can only have been told to the Midgardians by Loki, for he was the only one to fight at my side that day. I thought it would be the kind of detail he would deem amusing to tell.”

“It wasn’t mentioned,” Jane said, shaking her head. “It just tells of your “mighty deeds” in slaying all of the giants. Makes you sound quite heroic, actually. I assumed that you took off the dress with the veil, I guess...”

Silence fell over the table as Thor stared ponderously into his mug, likely thinking of the brother who had once told stories about him as if he were a hero.

“You don’t still have the dress, do you?” Tony asked, breaking the silence. He had to duck under the table as the ale mug flew over his head.


	4. A Brother's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 721
> 
> Main Characters: Thor Odinsson, Loki Odinsson
> 
> Notes: A peek into Thor and Loki’s childhood. Children are children, even on Asgard— and children are cruel. Even when they don’t mean to be.

“Weirdo!”

“Freak!”

Seven-year-old Thor has been following the sound of children shouting for a while, looking for someone to play with, but he is worried to hear that it is angry shouting. He starts running towards the noise, wondering what is wrong.

There is a bully circle in a small, otherwise deserted plaza that is popular for playing ball games in. Eight or nine other children are all shouting and pushing at the victim in the middle. Something crawls out from between the legs of two boys, and a moment later the victim in the middle seems to vanish into thin air. Thor is horrified to realize that the escaping victim is his six-year-old brother.

“Coward! Running away!” yells Berg, a nine-year-old Valkyrieson. He grabs Loki’s arm and raises his other fist to hit him. Despite the fact that Berg is larger and older than him, Thor does not hesitate to headbutt him as hard as he can.

“You dare lay hands on my brother?!” Thor roars, as loud as his little lungs can manage. It’s enough to make the other children pause. Half of battle, he has already been taught, is confidence and intimidation.

“Stay out of this, princey,” Berg huffs, though he doesn’t make a move to resume the fight. Loki is more likely to run and hide, but it is well known that Thor always fights and is often boastful about them whether he wins or loses. Besides, it is just beginning to dawn on them that even though fighting is not discouraged in Asgard, ganging up on the King’s son is nevertheless likely to get them in trouble.

“C’mon, Berg, let’s just go find where your helmet flew to,” mutters Volstagg, a short, round boy about Loki’s age. The other kids are already slipping away while Thor is focused on staring down Berg.

Berg finally backs off in a huff. Only after his adversary is out of sight does Thor turn his back to check on his brother. Loki is rubbing gingerly at a black eye, looking sullen.

“Didn’t need you to fight that stupid Berg for me,” he complains.

“I’m your big brother, protecting you is my duty!” Thor declares, privately vowing to track Berg down later and pay him back double. He knows he’d be annoyed if someone else finished his fight for him, as would any true warrior, but a warrior is not what he sees his brother as. Loki is quieter and cleverer, and very skilled at magic. He can do all sorts of cool things that Thor never could, which more than makes up for him not being much of a fighter, in Thor’s opinion. “Why did Berg’s helmet fly away?”

“He was showing off this stupid new helmet he had,” Loki mutters. “It had these big silly feathers on it. I’m surprised it was big enough for his big fat head!” Loki makes a face, and Thor mirrors it. It’s true; Berg _does_ have a big fat head. “So I turned it into a bird and it flew away.”

“You did? _Cool_!” Thor exclaims. “Can you do it again?”

“Uh-huh...” Loki digs in his pockets and finds a small stone with a hole in it. “Um, I don’t think this is big enough for a bird, but I think I can do... _this_...” he passes his hand over the stone, face screwed up in concentration, and it turns into a dragonfly. It buzzes up into the air, flying around Thor’s head.

“That’s brilliant!” Thor laughs, spinning in circles to watch it.

“You think so?” Loki says, biting his lip, unable to contain a smile at the praise.

“Yeah!” Thor says, watching the dragonfly return to Loki’s hand and turn back into a stone. “I wish I could do cool stuff like that.”

“Yeah, but you’re strong enough to beat up Berg,” Loki mutters, looking down. Thor grabs his hand and pulls him off.

“C’mon, let’s get a healer to fix your eye,” he says. “An’ then we’ll tell everyone how _you_ got into a fight with Berg before he gets to spread any stupid stories about you!”

“Okay,” Loki agrees, pocketing his stone. He wants to show his trick to Mother and Father later, and is secretly glad that Thor won’t be upstaging him with a story about him headbutting Berg.


	5. On The Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 364
> 
> Main Characters: Bruce Banner
> 
> Notes: Bruce didn’t start losing control with The Hulk. He just got more dangerous. Also, in my head there was no Hulk movie in 2003, none at all, absolutely not, and thus Bruce’s family background for the MCU is not given.

Anger’s always been something of a trigger for Bruce. It’s not something that he’s ever had control of; The Other Guy just made him more dangerous. As a kid, it was the classic abuse cycle. His dad would knock lumps out of him, he’d be too small to fight back, rage would boil and fester inside him all night, and then at school the next day he’d take it out on anyone for anything. His own possessions were all broken, when it all got too much at home. Teachers whispered that it was to do with his mother’s death, which was probably true, somewhere down the line. He got expelled from four different elementary schools.

His second high school was better, not because he was learning to control his anger, but because puberty had hit and made him big enough to hit back. He became more settled in school, and once he was actually able to focus on his lessons he found them very interesting, especially Science. He managed to win a prize at his Senior Science Fair for a model of the human genome. That night, when he took it home to show off, his dad broke it. Bruce broke his arm. He was winning a lot more fights now that he’d done his own Biology studying and knew the locations of the major pain centres on the human body.

Bruce won a number of prestigious scholarships, left for University and never looked back. He still doesn’t know what became of his dad, or even if he’s still alive. He suspects that the stalkers at SHIELD know, in the extraordinarily unlikely case that Bruce ever ended up there. He hasn’t asked. He doesn’t want to know, because if he asks, they’ll think Bruce wants to see him. He doesn’t, and he doesn’t want Shanta to even know about the man that turned Bruce into a monster of rage years before a Gamma overdose did.

When Steve mentions what Doctor Erskine said, that his serum took what was inside and externalized it, Bruce thinks of The Other Guy and The Abomination and wonders if his project wasn’t closer to the mark than he thought.


	6. Shawerma for Rhodey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 478
> 
> Main Character(s): Tony Stark, James Rhodes, Steve Rogers
> 
> Notes: Rhodey’s glad to hear that Tony’s been able to find more than two people who can put up with him. Tony wants his best friend to meet all his new friends. Rhodey has only just got back from a deployment overseas, though, so while he’s heard about the Battle of Manhattan he doesn’t fully realize just who Tony’s new friends are.

“We’re out of tables,” a young, harried-looking waiter says as James Rhodes steps into the small New York shawerma joint.

“I think I’m expected,” Rhodey said, looking around. “Tony Stark...”

“RHODEY! My MAN!”

“Ah, a guest of Mister Stark,” the waiter sighs, rushing off towards the kitchen. Rhodey glances away from him just in time to intercept an incoming bear hug from his best friend.

“How’s the superheroing going?” Rhodey asks, patting Tony on the back. “I hear tell you’re a literal nuclear deterrent these days.”

“I don’t make a habit of it, the suit’s still not properly outfitted for space flight,” Tony says, pulling back and leading Rhodey between the tables to an extra-large table at the back, near the kitchen doors. “Just gimme time. Glad you could make it out.”

“You guys regulars or somethin’?” Rhodey asks, spotting the eclectic group who are currently watching two huge blond guys trying to fit falafels into their mouths whole.

“This is our thing now,” Tony says, producing an empty chair from somewhere. “We have things. It’s kinda cool. Guys, lemme introduce you to my best friend, my War Machine, Rhodey!”

“Lt. Col. James Rhodes,” Rhodey introduces himself formally. There is a round of “hellos” and some waving from the falafel-faced.

“I’d like you to meet Pepper,” Tony says, causing the woman in question to throw some sort of small biscuit at him, “Doctor Bruce Banner...” this guy is also a bit big, probably taller than Rhodey when he isn’t hunched over, just dwarfed by the two behemoths having the eating contest. He smiles shyly as he is introduced. “Agent Romanov- may or may not be her real name, I don’t think she does real...”

“Natasha,” the stunning redhead says, glaring at Tony. He smiles sweetly at her and moves on, pressing Rhodey down into a chair and pushing the biscuits towards him.

“Agent Barton, likewise,” he says, indicating a guy in sunglasses who waves at Rhodey over the drink he’s sipping. “The gentleman with the very pretty hair would be Thor, and his falafel adversary is Captain Steve Rogers, who you also may have heard of...”

Rhodey manages to be simultaneously embarrassed and honoured to have _Captain America_ perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on him to remove the biscuit that he had started eating at that exact moment. Once assured that his best friend is not going to die, Tony just grins like the idiot he is.

“Easy, soldier,” the Captain says, passing Rhodey a glass of water. “You okay?”

“Okay?” Rhodey manages. “Man, I practically joined the army ‘cause of you! Hey, if I get Tony to give you one’ve my old comic books, you wouldn’t sign it, would you?”

The Captain looks unaccountably sad for a moment, but then he claps Rhodey on the shoulder. “I guess I can’t say no. You outrank me.”

Rhodey nearly faints.


	7. Support Group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 345
> 
> Main Character(s): Peter Parker, Darcy Lewis, The Avengers
> 
> Notes: Spiderman was one of my favourite superheroes as a kid, so yes, I would love to see him in The Avengers and it’s a fairly regular headcanon of mine that he joins :D He might worry about getting involved with the superheroes he’s heard so much about, but being a hero doesn’t mean being perfect. No ownie.

Peter Parker is excited to be asked to join The Avengers, but he also feels intimidated; he’s just a kid that stumbled across superpowers and started fighting crime because he thought it would appease his dead uncle and parents, surrounded by Gods and geniuses and real, bone-deep heroes like Captain America. He lets slip his nervousness to the nice Miss Lewis who greets him at the entrance to Stark Tower and takes him up to see the others. She lets him in on a few secrets.

No matter how much he wants to science-geek out, he’s not to ever ask Tony about his father, the legendary Howard Stark. Apparently, Tony’s feelings and memories regarding his father are best referred to as “complicated”. He’s also to ignore any of the alpha-male bickering between him and Steve Rogers, which is apparently related and not as serious as it looks.

Steve’s dedication to being a soldier and protector is absolute, and thought to be something to do with the fact that the only thing he seems to really know about his father was that he was a soldier.

Staying out of Thor’s floor is advised until he knows the place better, as a few rooms there are home to his insane younger brother, who Peter is not to go near under any circumstances. The word “complicated” also applies here.

Asking about Bruce’s family is also not advisable, as the last time somebody did that Bruce had to run off to his “Smash Room” before he Hulked out. This is also a room that Peter is advised to avoid.

Pretty much the only ones he seems welcome to ask about their families are Clint and Natasha, but it is generally agreed that their answers are always flat-out lies.

General policy on families is “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, it seems, and Peter is relieved to know that he doesn’t have to try to explain anything concerning his parents or uncle unless he really wants to.

He’s also starting to wonder if he’s joined a superhero team or a support group.


	8. Forge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 2225
> 
> Main Character(s): Loki Odinsson, Thor Odinsson, Odin Allfather
> 
> Notes: I first saw Thor as someone more familiar with the original mythology than the comic books, so there were a few things that were a bit of a surprise, but the first shot of Mjolnir in the movie was a particularly nasty jolt. Specifically, the fact that Mjolnir existed when Thor and Loki were both small children, despite some of the very nasty details of the hammer’s creation. This fic is how I envisage it happened, but be warned that it involves the mutilation and severe trauma of a young child, so if that’s a trigger for you, by all means skip this one.

Eight-year-old Loki was playing alone at the edge of the forests. He wasn’t really supposed to, but he’d heard that witches and sorcerers lived there, and he hoped to learn better magic from them. He was good at magic. He wasn’t as big or strong as his big brother Thor and wasn’t as good at fighting, but he was good at magic. Since hearing about the magic in the forest, he’d snuck off to explore there as often as he could.

He found a house. It was a small house, with a child-sized front door, but with a huge chimney. Loki circled the house a couple of times, trying to peer inside, but the windows were all steamed up. Loki decided to open the door, just a crack, and peek inside.

There were two men sitting at a table, smoking pipes. They both looked around when Loki opened the door, making him close it and back away in panic. Before he could get far enough away, one of them opened the door, reaching out and snatching Loki by the arm.

“What are you doing here, little Asgardian?” The man said. He had a thick beard, like Father’s, but he wasn’t much taller than Loki himself. He scowled at Loki.

“What is it, brother?” The other man called.

“A little Asgardian rat, Sindri,” the man who had Loki called back.

“You’re dwarves, aren’t you?” Loki said curiously, trying to wriggle out of the man’s grip. “I didn’t know dwarves lived here.”

“Looks to me like there’s plenty you don’t know, boy,” the dwarf said rudely. Loki scowled.

“You should choose your words more carefully, dwarf,” he said, standing still and drawing himself up taller. “I am Loki, son of Odin, King of Asgard.”

“And I am Brokkr, brother of Sindri, the finest blacksmith in the woods, and I don’t care,” Brokkr said, giving him a push. Inside the house, Sindri laughed. Loki brushed himself off as he got back to his feet, in a huff.

“Fine blacksmith?” He said derisively. “The Sons of Ivaldi are the finest blacksmiths in the Nine Realms, they say, and I think it is true. Freyr’s ship and Father’s spear are both wondrous things, which I am sure you could not create the equal of!”

“The Sons of Ivaldi?” Sindri laughed. “To be sure, they can whore themselves out for trinkets, but I am offended that you consider _them_ skilled!”

“Well, can you make better things than them or can’t you?” Loki said, crossing his arms. “I bet you can’t.”

Brokkr crossed his own arms, leaning down a little to be nose-to-nose with Loki. “And I would bet on my brother’s skills any day,” he said. “What would you bet, little Asgardian?”

“I’d bet my head!” Loki said firmly.

“So would I,” Brokkr said with a nasty grin. “Three days, three things, and if none are finer than the junk of the Sons of Ivaldi, my head is yours. But if they are finer, as they shall be...” He flicked his finger across Loki’s throat, making the child recoil.

“Fine,” Loki said. “You have my word!” He didn’t think anything of the childish bet; he was certain that his father’s Gungnir was the finest thing that had ever been made, and that no stupid dwarves that lived in the forest would be able to match it.

{}

The next two days, he was unable to sneak out to the forest to play, so he bewitched flies to go bite the dwarves for him to distract them, just to make sure. He hadn’t actually seen anything made by the two dwarf brothers before, so it struck him that he couldn’t be sure how fine their work was. He told Thor in secret about the trip and the bet, and Thor agreed that there was nothing finer than Gungnir. He had never seen anything created by the brothers either, though, so he made Loki promise to bring Thor with him when he last went to see the brothers.

 Loki agreed to bring Thor with him on the fourth day. To him, as a child, the only person stronger than his big brother was Odin himself.

On the third day, Loki snuck out alone and turned into a fly himself to go see the dwarves, for no other reason that he could. He had come to the talent of shapeshifting only recently, and like any child with a new trick did it as much as he possibly could. He was frightened by what he saw.

Brokkr stood at the bellows, working steadily despite the swollen fly bites on his hands and neck. Sindri was turning some large instrument over in the fire. On their table nearby sat a huge, glowing golden boar and a shining golden ring. The things were indeed fine and beautiful, and Loki got afraid that they’d be judged as such. He slipped through a crack in the door and began annoying Brokkr, hoping to distract him and damage whatever Sindri was working at, but Brokkr steadily ignored him. In desperation, he bit at Brokkr’s eye until it filled with blood. Brokkr finally stepped back from the bellows, trying to swat Loki away in frustration.

“Brokkr!” Sindri yelled angrily. “The bellows! Agh, too late,” he complained, drawing the item out of the fire. It was a hammer. “The weight’s off, now.”

“Sorry, brother,” Brokkr said, chagrined. He wiped blood out of his eye and Loki flew away, sure that he’d won the bet.

{}

“I can’t believe you got out to the _forest_ without saying anything,” Thor complained, following Loki through the trees and looking around curiously, an excited grin on his face.

“Well, we’re not supposed to, really,” Loki muttered.

“Ha! We are princes of Asgard!” Thor declared. “We decide what we are and are not to do!”

“Okay,” Loki giggled. “It’s this way.” He pointed the way to the dwarf brothers’ home.

“Why don’t they live in Asgard, anyway?”  Thor complains. “Kinda silly to live out here when there’s Asgard to live in.”

“We are not interested in living among arrogant Asgardians with no respect for true craft,” said the dwarf standing outside the door, waiting for them. He had a bandage over one eye; Brokkr. “You are not in Asgard now, little one. You are on our land.”

“Little?” Thor laughed. “You are hardly taller than we!”

“Aye, but my hands are larger and stronger than your skulls,” Brokkr sneered, hovering his bitten hands over Loki and Thor’s head. They were _big_ hands, so Loki grabbed Thor’s arm and tugged him inside.

“C’mon, brother,” he said, “let’s see what they’ve made.”

The beautiful golden boar was snuffling around the table, and the ring and hammer were still sitting on its surface. Thor, as ever, spoke without thought.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, staring at the boar. “It’s _alive_! You made a thing that’s _alive_!”

“It is a fine thing, no?” Sindri said, with a nasty look at Loki. “Its name is Gullinbursti. The ring, Draupnir, will produce eight new rings every nine days.”

“Woooooow,” Thor breathed, his eyes as wide as the ring.

“Brother...” Loki whispered. The brothers were giving him a very nasty couple of looks.

“That looks cool too, what’s that do?” Thor said, pointing at the hammer.

“That is Mjolnir,” Sindri said proudly. “It will always return to its owner’s hand...”

“I think the boy has agreed that these are fine things indeed,” Brokkr said, “and he seems a fair judge to me. So, little rat, the bet must be settled, and we must have your head!”

“What?” Thor said, startled. Loki hadn’t told him about that.

“I was joking,” Loki said nervously. “I just wanted to see if you could do it...”

“You gave your word, little rat,” Brokkr sneered, grabbing Loki’s arm.

“Do not lay hands upon my brother!” Thor shouted, leaping at Brokkr, but Sindri grabbed him by the arms and threw him aside.  A grown dwarf’s strength was more than a match for an Asgardian child.

“Let me go!” Loki screamed as Brokkr grabbed both arms. “You can’t take my head!”

“And why not?” Sindri said, approaching him with a large axe.

“Because... because how are you going to take it,” Loki said quickly, “without cutting my neck?”

“The neck was rather how I was planning to do it,” Sindri sneered.

“But my neck wasn’t a part of the deal,” Loki said. “You can’t take my head without hurting my neck. That’d break the deal. You’re a great craftsman, right? You wouldn’t take more than you’re owed.”

Sindri scowled. “Such a quick tongue, little rat,” he said. “We ought to do something about that, ought’n’t we, brother?”

“Yes, indeed, brother,” Brokkr said nastily, slamming Loki down on the table and holding him down firm. Sindri set down the axe and delicately picked up a large needle and thread.

“No!” Loki screamed. “Let me go! Brother, help!”

He looked around wildly. Thor was gone.

Real panic hit Loki. He wanted to cry. His brother had _abandoned_ him, he’d made a _stupid_ bet and the dwarves were going to _hurt_ him and he needed to shapeshift he needed to shift _now_ but he _couldn’t_ , he had to _focus_ to do it and he was panicking and the needle was _big_ -

Sindri grabbed Loki’s chin with one hand, and with the other, pushed the needled through Loki’s lips and began to sew them together. Loki tried to scream in agony, but it just made his lips hurt even more as the coarse thread was pulled through them, again and again, forcing shut his lips and it _hurt_ , _it hurt, HELP-_

Sindri dropped the needle abruptly as he was thrust aside, hard enough to smash into the wall. Brokkr looked up from Loki just in time for the butt of Gungnir to wipe the sneer off of his face.

Loki curled up, clutching his limps and whimpering mutely.

“Brutal creatures!” Odin roared. “I care not for what deals you claim to have struck! To take a child’s games to the point of mutilation?!”

“Loki!” Thor yelled, running over and hauling himself up onto the table. The boar, Gullinbursti, squealed as a pair of Asgardian guards grabbed each of the dwarf brothers and hauled them away. “I’m sorry, brother,” Thor said, starting to cry when he saw Loki’s bleeding, damaged lips. “I tried to grab that hammer they made, to fight them, but I couldn’t, I’m _really_ sorry, I went and got Father...” he went quiet sharply as Odin pulled him aside.

“You boys ought not to have come out here alone,” Odin said sternly. “Thor, you should not have encouraged your little brother to do so. Shame on you.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Thor sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Loki.”

“I know you are,” Odin said, more gently, picking up Loki in his arms, gently touching his lips with a sorrowful expression on his face. Loki whimpered in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks, and curled up against his Father in the hope that he could make it alright.

{}

“It is forbidden for children to go into that forest,” Odin said, standing over Thor, who held his brother’s hand while Frigga gently removed the string from his lips and rubbing healing salve into the wounds. “You knew that. Why did you go?”

“I didn’t know what it was like,” Thor muttered, looking down. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“A child’s curiosity,” Odin growled, running a hand through his hair. “The people and creatures that live in that forest are dangerous, Thor, because many do not consider themselves subject to the laws of Asgard. The Citadel’s edges will be better guarded now, and I must see to a craftsman who can build us a wall.”

“Is that necessary?” Frigga said, glancing up momentarily from her work over her younger son. “Asgard has never needed such defences before, even during the war with Jotunheim.”

“It is clearly needed to keep in as sorely as to keep out,” Odin said. “Loki is not the first child to have been harmed in the forest, and increased guards clearly do not serve that purpose sufficiently.” He stepped closer to Loki, looking down sadly at him.

“I am very disappointed in you,” he said. “In both of you, for doing something so dangerous.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Thor whispered again.

“’M s’rry, F’th’r,” Loki whimpered through his damaged lips. Frigga placed a finger to them, shushing him.

{}

The ring Draupnir was placed in the vaults of Asgard, where it made the kingdom richer than ever. The boar Gullinbursti took well to Freyr and lived with him, even pulling his chariot for him. Mjolnir was placed in the vaults, and Thor worked and trained until he was strong enough to lift it.

It hurt him that, for once, he hadn’t been able to save his brother on his own, and was determined to become strong enough to defend anyone. He did not want to fail again.

Loki knew, later, that his brother had been too young to help him, that his great disappointment was unjustified. It didn’t change the fact that the very sight of Mjolnir or Gullinbursti caused his lips to hurt. What hurt even more, in his memory, was his father’s disappointment, which he’d never truly felt before, and never wanted to feel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original myth, Loki and Thor are adults by this point, as the reason the brothers made three treasures was to match the three made by the Sons of Ivaldi; the foldable boat Skidbladnir, Odin’s spear Gungnir, and Sif’s golden hair, which they made for her after Loki cut it off and Thor forced Loki to get her a replacement. For various reasons, that story has not and probably won’t happen in this universe. In the myth, Loki gets into an argument with the dwarves and bets his head with Brokkr that Sindri cannot make finer treasures, and a fly which is implied to be Loki himself bothers Brokkr all three days. The bite on Brokkr’s eyelid causes the handle of Mjolnir to be too short, leading to Thor having to have special gauntlets forged so that he can lift it, but the handle of the MCU!Mjolnir seems to be just fine so I threw in a random line about the weight being off and left it at that :P  
> And yes, they do sew Loki’s lips together when he talks them out of taking his head, which Loki’s muzzle at the end of The Avengers may or may not be a reference to. That story pretty much traumatized me the first time I read it as a child, so it cannot have done good things to Loki’s mind, and I can’t imagine that the sight of Mjolnir brings up happy memories for him.


	9. It's Personal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 707
> 
> Main Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Obadiah Stane
> 
> Notes: Finding the young CEO of Stark Industries a competent PA is not easy, especially when you’re not really trying. Thankfully, Tony is, in his own special way.

When Tony Stark turned 21, he was anointed the new CEO of Stark Industries, as per Howard Stark’s will. Obadiah offered to find him a PA to handle most of the running of the company; after all, Tony’s primary skills and interests were mechanics, not business.

The first six all ended up in bed with Tony inside of a week. The seventh was there at the end of the first day. Tony always fired them straight away, always on the basis that they were “incompetent”. Well, their competency in handling his company would probably be challenged if they had personal issues with Tony sleeping around, which he fully intended to continue doing.

(He never really thought about the fact that Obadiah continued to send him attractive female PAs rather than taking the simple solution and hiring a male one.)

The eighth candidate is a tall, slim redhead called Virginia. Tony starts laying on the moves almost automatically. She doesn’t respond to any of it, sometimes offering him a professional smile as she brushes him off and nothing more. She doesn’t leave her bedroom door invitingly unlocked when she goes to bed or gets in the shower. She deftly avoids falling for any of his seduction, so after an unusually productive week, he tries the trick that Two, Four and Five all fell straight for; the Drunken Groping.

They probably went for it on the basis that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but the thing about Tony Stark is that, no matter how drunk he actually is, he only ever appears as drunk as he wants to. It’s a trick that got him through most of his teen years.

She ignores his drunken babbling about how lovely she is and how much he needs her, waves off all of his attempts to offer her a drink, and when he slumps down next to her and drapes an arm over her shoulders, she gets up and starts tidying away some paperwork, complaining that she’s clearly not going to get a valid signature on them tonight.

“C’mooooon, misssissiz Pottssssssss,” he slurs, giggling. “Wasssup? Don’ you like me?”

“Sir, if you just want a bedwarmer, there are special numbers you can call,” she says calmly. “That’s not what I get paid for. I get paid for my diploma in business management, although I’m starting to think that I was hired based on the babysitting I did in high school.”

“Yerrreallll funny, Miz Potts... Potts, Pots, salt-‘n’-pepper pots...” he sings, swaying as he staggers to his feet. “Which one’re you? Salt ‘r Pepper?”

Without warning, he grabs her and kisses her full on the mouth. It’s generally the killing blow, and very nearly is- for him. The slap almost knocks him off his feet.

“Def’nitely Pepper,” he mutters, rubbing his jaw. “Awww, not th’ face...”

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed, sir,” she says firmly. “On your _own_.”

“G’night, Pepper Potts!” Tony calls, wandering off.

Before he goes to sleep, he calls Obadiah and tells him they’ve got a keeper.

The next morning, he offers her a permanent position. She’s a little suspicious, but she accepts, stating how relieved she is not to be job hunting anymore.

“Though I’ll still quite if you can’t keep things strictly professional, sir,” she warns, looking through the contract papers he’s given her.

“I swear I won’t try to kiss you again,” Tony says with a grin, “unless you want me to...”

“Hmm, these give me free access to and control over your major bank accounts,” she says innocently. Tony raises his hands in surrender.

“Talk to Oby if there’s anything you don’t understand,” he says, “’cause I probably don’t understand it either. And please, y’know, call me Tony... all that “Mr Stark” stuff is kinda prim. A little kinky, I guess, if you’re into that...”

“Will that be all, Mr Stark?” She says pointedly. “I’d like to organize to have my things shipped so I can move into my rooms tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” Tony says with a wink. “Welcome aboard, Pepper.” She just turns and strides out of the room.

It’s three years before she starts calling him Tony, sometimes, and twelve before she lets him kiss her again.


	10. Brothers In Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 445
> 
> Main Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
> 
> Notes: Steve never stops believing in fighting back and doing what’s right. It just gets a little easier to do when he has a friend by his side. Written prior to seeing The Winter Soldier and the flashback which showed that Steve and Bucky had parents still alive into their adulthoods.

Steve Roger’s mom dies when he’s five years old. He’s too young to remember too much about her. Only two things really stand out.

One was that she was a nurse, and worked a lot, and when she was home neighbours were always coming to her for help that they couldn’t afford from a hospital. No matter how tired she was, she never turned them away. She was always helping people.

The other was that she often told him stories about his father. Steve doesn’t remember him, because he died before Steve was born, fighting to protect people in a faraway country called Europe. His mother said that he was one of the bravest soldiers in the 107th infantry. Ever since he can remember, Steve has wanted to be a soldier like him.

In retrospect, the orphanage was a good place to start, because it’s a battleground.

Every child in there has been abandoned, or left behind. Everyone has something to prove, and small, skinny Steve is an easy target, especially since he never runs away.

When Steve is ten, he suddenly gets an ally and protector in the form of a new kid, James, who is immediately appointed the moniker “Bucky” by other children for his front teeth. Steve thinks it’s still better than “Scrawny Stevie”. At least the teeth will soon fall out and be replaced by better ones.

Bucky is actually two years younger than Steve, but he’s taller so people often think he’s older. Steve is friendly to him when he first arrives, because he always wants the new kids to feel less vulnerable. He does this even though he’s already sure that, the next time Steve gets in a fight, Bucky will side against him, because in the end the fastest way for a child to feel stronger is to make someone else feel weaker.

To his surprise, Bucky doesn’t. Bucky leaps to his defence and turns out to be a tough enough fighter to send Big Jimmy packing. Suddenly, Steve has a friend.

Bucky’s dad was in the 107th, too. He died when Bucky was quite small, of illness, but he taught Bucky a few things about fighting first. Both boys want to be in the army like their dads someday. Steve’s sure that they’re destined to be comrades in arms. Bucky, who generally finishes fights for Steve, sees it differently.

“My little brother got hit by the same taxi as my mom,” he confides. “He was kinda like you.” He grins, baring the buck teeth. “Y’know, scrawny. And kinda dumb.”

“Just like you?” Steve retorts. When Bucky laughs, Steve knows that they’re best friends, and always will be.


	11. Drunks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 246
> 
> Main Character(s): Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinsson, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner
> 
> Notes: Between Thor and Tony, the Avengers go drinking together a lot. As usual, they’re all very different, while still looking after each other.

Tony is a happy, hyperactive drunk. This surprises nobody, not least because they’ve all been on YouTube, even Steve, who is addicted to cat videos.

Steve himself cannot get drunk. Even a lethal quantity of absinthe does nothing for him but make him a little thirsty. Steve is conspiring with Thor to get some Aesirmead.

Thor also plans to bring the mead for himself. Midgardian alcohol is much weaker than the drink he’s used to, and he cannot understand the purpose of little paper umbrellas at all.

Natasha is unaccountably fond of them when drunk. She gets a little softer, and very giggly, when drunk, though it takes her a long while to get there. Despite being giggly, she retains enough presence of mind to swiftly steal and delete any photos taken of her or Barton while drunk. Tony often accuses her of acting it up.

Clint does it too, though nobody’s sure how because he’s the most “down” drunk. He ends up hugging people and mumbling about how he loves them all really and they’re his best friends, when not downing fifteen shots a minute. He tends to wake up at the top of trees or on roofs in the morning.

Bruce is also a lethargic drunk. In fact, he falls asleep. Thor or Steve has to carry him home, because he’s heavier than can be believed. Tony sometimes mutters about weight to mass ratios, before being dragged off to his own bed by Pepper.


	12. Two Kings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 181
> 
> Main Character(s): Thor Odinsson, Loki Odinsson
> 
> Notes: When they are children, Thor and Loki make a pact that cannot be kept.

When they are children, Thor and Loki’s play-fights often revolve around who will be King of Asgard. Loki often loses, so he proposes an alternative.

“Why don’t we both be King?” He suggests. Thor makes a face and shakes his head.

“You can’t have two Kings!” He laughs.

“You can’t? Why not?” Loki asks, frowning. Thor mirrors his frown.

“Dunno,” he says. “’Cause you can’t. But y’know, the King gets to say what you can and can’t do.” He grins brightly. “Here’s an idea! Whichever one of us gets to be King decides that there can be two Kings. Nobody’ll be able to complain ‘cause you can’t argue with the King. Then we both get to be King!”

“Promise?” Loki says. Thor raises his fist and Loki bumps his against it.

“Promise!” Thor says brightly.

Loki desperately hopes that the promise is true, because at a young age he can already tell that Thor will be a King like he can never be. It isn’t jealousy, not yet, but there’s a hurt that he doesn’t quite understand and won’t go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I finished typing this, “King” stopped looking like a word to me.


	13. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 681
> 
> Main Character(s): Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark
> 
> Notes: Natasha always said that love is for children. But plans do change over time, and she’s not the only one with almost too much of it. CapxWidow.

Against all expectations, including his, Clint Barton dies an old man. As Natasha Romanov stands over his grave, thinking of the quiet peace of his last months as he faded away, wrinkled and grey, she knows that that will never happen to her. She still looks just as she did the day she met him, seventy years before.

Clint outlived Bruce Banner, which had also shocked them all. Natasha can still remember a quiet conversation in the dark, illicitly overheard, Tony comforting Bruce as the latter tearfully confessed his fear of immortality, of his inability to sicken or be killed thanks to the Hulk. He was wrong about the former. In the end, gamma poisoning came to claim him. Twenty years after first becoming a monster of rage, Bruce Banner’s heart slowed to a stop with his adopted daughter holding his hand. Tony shelled out obscene amounts of money for Shanta’s university and medical school fees. Dr Shanta Banner has also been at Clint’s funeral, one of the most compassionate women Natasha has ever known.

Tony Stark himself is an old man, too, and probably not long for this world. He lost a lot of heart after Pepper died a few years ago, and though the Arc Reactor has kept it beating, they all know that it will be the work of moments for Tony to remove it and succumb, despite the wishes of his children and grandchildren. But Tony Stark won’t be a man to struggle away from Death. One day, perhaps not too long from now, he will summon Death to him and be waiting with a drink in his hand. Besides, what does he have to fear? At Bruce Banner’s funeral, Jane Foster descended to tell them that all of the Avengers have long been promised seats in Valhalla. Tony has said that he’s impatient to try that Aesirmead.

Thor himself did not come to Bruce’s funeral, and has not come for Clint’s. When the Odinsleep claimed his father completely, not to wake again until Ragnarok, Thor returned to Asgard to rule and has not descended to Earth since. One of Odin’s last acts was to grant Jane Foster access to the Apples of Idun, allowing her to reside in Asgard with Thor, and though she has returned to Earth a few times, the visits have been few and far between. The Queen of Asgard is as busy and heavy with responsibility as its King, and she has not been seen on Earth since the death of Erik Selvig.

As Tony is wheeled away by one of his grandsons, the only one left standing by the grave with Natasha is Steve Rogers. He, like her, has not aged since long before he joined The Avengers; neither of them may ever age again. They are unchanged, even as those they love fade away around them. Even as things change vastly. Gone are the days when six people stand against an army; the Avengers are an army themselves, which Steve leads and Natasha trains, the most senior and respected members. They have fought alongside heroes the same age as the children of their dearest friends; the current Iron hero is Tony’s Stark’s granddaughter. Unless they are killed in battle, they will be Avengers for eternity.

She slips her hand into his. Love is for children, and she is more than a hundred years old. She feels so much older, even as she looks like a mere child besides grey old men and women. But she has resisted for decades, and it only grows harder over time.

“I thought you were never going to fall in love,” Steve says quietly to her. He is hesitant, having politely respected her wishes and kept his distance ever since she first shot him down a good fifty years before, but she can still hear that warmth in his voice that he reserves for her. That is unchanged, and is one of the only things that is so.

“I’m only just realizing how long forever is,” she responds. “It’s a long time to be alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really ship these two, but I can see it happening, so yeah. Does Natasha ever do fluff ever, though? :x


	14. Not A Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Iron Man (2008)
> 
> Words: 679
> 
> Main Character(s): Tony Stark, James Rhodes
> 
> Notes: Four months in captivity can break anybody down. Rhodey’s the only one to see just how badly.

James Rhodes feels like he could walk on air. Tony’s safe, he’s alive, his best friend is hurt but he’s alive and just fine...

Or so he thinks until he’s taking a bundle of clean clothes down to the bathroom that Tony’s cleaning up in. First thing that’s odd is that the shower’s running, though Rhodey’s sure that there’s a tub in there and that someone filled it for him.

Second, he can hear sharp, harsh breathing. It’s almost like crying. Exactly like crying.

“Shit,” he whispers, before knocking gently on the door. “It’s me,” he says quietly, waiting to be invited in instead of letting himself in, giving Tony his time, his space, a chance to recover his dignity if he wants.

“’Mon in, Rhodey,” Tony says heavily. Rhodey lets himself in, closing the door behind him, and beholds a Tony Stark more naked than any gaggle of playboy bunnies have ever seen. It’s not just that he’s physically unclothed, sitting on the tub floor- hell, half of YouTube’s seen Tony Stark without any clothes- but that Tony Stark is the last person on the planet that Rhodey ever expected to see in the foetal position. He’s sitting upright, but he’s still curled tight with his head pressed into his knees.

“Thought someone filled the bath for you,” Rhodey said after a few moments of silence, setting down the clothes. “Uses less water if you’re gonna be in there a while.”

“Yeah, I know water’s kind of a thing here...” Tony sighed, running a hand through his sodden and shaggy-long hair, “but I just don’t feel like ever seeing a tub of water ever again, okay?” He looks up and water streams down his face, not really managing to conceal his red, swollen eyes. Rhodey hisses involuntarily in anger.

“Shit, man,” he mutters. “Sorry, I didn’t realize they’d...”

“Yeah, up until I realized that they had my weapons and were willing to leave me alone with a bunch of them if they thought I was working for them, I wasn’t feeling co-operative,” Tony says, running his hand through his hair again, repeatedly, flicking water out as the shower continues to run over him. “They had my _weapons_ , Rhodey... they used _my_ weapons to kill those soldiers... Shit, some of them were just _kids_...” his voice breaks and he rubs his hand over his mouth, as if trying to wipe away an involuntary sob.

“They were soldiers, Tony,” Rhodey says, trying to lessen the guilt that he can see pressing heavily onto his friend’s shoulders. “They knew the risks when they took the job. We’re soldiers...”

“I’m not,” Tony says harshly. “I’m not, and I-I didn’t realize...”

“I know you’re not, buddy,” Rhodey says gently. “That’s why we’re gonna get you cleaned up, send you home for Pepper and Jarvis to take care of...” he pats the stack of clean clothes. “’Fraid we ain’t got your Calvin Klein boxers, but these oughta be in your size.”

Tony laughed, a little harsher than his usual carefree self, but it’s good to hear the sound nevertheless. “Calvin Klein? Please. Where’s my Armani?” He uncurls, reaching up to turn off the shower. Rhodey can’t stop staring at the glowing circle on his chest.

“I know they’re all “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” these days, but if you don’t stop staring at me towelling off someone’s gonna ask,” Tony points out. Rhodey throws the bundle of clothes at his head.

“That just looks painful, man,” he said, waving at the glowing _thing_ in Tony’s chest. Tony taps it, grinning as Rhodey winces at the metallic _clink_.

“Less painful than miniscule shards of shrapnel digging into my squishy vitals,” he quipped, pulling on the boxers and pants. “Uh... don’t have a belt, do you?”

Rhodey goes to find him one, trying to put out of his mind how the clothes that were his size four months ago hang off him, and how, despite the return to the snark and lighthearted quips, the weight he could see pressing down on Tony Stark hadn’t lifted at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly, I’m amazed that Tony’s PTSD isn’t worse than it is. Then again, I suppose building a super-suit and trying to fly to the moon isn’t what most sane people would do first thing when they got home…


	15. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 933
> 
> Main Character(s): Betty Ross, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner
> 
> Notes: Betty’s a little suspicious about her new job, but the benefits are better than she expects.

Almost as soon as Betty Samson steps into the lobby of Stark Tower, she spots several familiar faces. Not ones that she knows personally, but ones that she has seen in articles and journals many times over. How could she not know them? She is approaching a group of the world’s foremost biochemical and medical professionals.

She introduces herself and makes the rounds of hand-shaking, receiving a few confused looks as to why a no-name like herself is there. At least there is no suspicion; the rumours about the incident at Culver had followed her for a while and she was worried that they would rear up again following her finally quitting last year. Luckily, the excuse that she was getting married had satisfied everyone. Not that she’d married Leo just to get away from her job. She loves him dearly, and he’s been the most patient, understanding man in the world with her hectic life and confused feelings for Bruce Banner. The last year of domestic serenity has been wonderful. But with their new daughter, they are needing a little more money around the house than Leo’s University work provides, and Tony Stark is offering an astoundingly generous salary and benefits package for a relatively low number of hours. The job offer is also extremely low on detail, vaguely mentioning that the project is medical in nature and nothing more.

Betty’s starting to wonder if something’s been hidden from her, because it turns out that all of the others have already had one-to-one interviews with Tony Stark. Betty’s increasingly worried that she’s wandered in on the wrong day when Tony Stark strolls out of an elevator and starts shaking hands.

“Afternoon, nice to meet you, howdy,” Stark says as he shakes hands, nodding as he apparently recognizes everyone. “Glad you could make it, Professor Samson,” he says to her personally, confirming that she is supposed to be there but only confusing her more as she is the only one that he greets by name. “I think your expertise is gonna be particularly helpful here. Anyways, everyone follow me to the labs, I’ll show you where you’ll be working...”

“Will you tell us exactly what this project is now, Monsieur Stark?” asks Dr Nican, a talented French biochemist. She has been giving Betty the stink-eye ever since Stark greeted her by name and apparently placed her in a position of some importance over the others, and it’s starting to irritate Betty.

“All in good time,” Stark promises. “Actually, I think I’ll let the team leader explain it, he knows what’s going on better than I do, physics and engineering are more my thing... hey, don’t worry, smile!” he says brightly, clapping the Frenchwoman on the shoulder. “Loosen up. He hates tension in the workplace.” He leads them into a large elevator. “Medical labs, please, Jarvis. In simple terms, I’d like to enlist all of you to help us find the cure.”

“The cure for _what_ , exactly?” asks Doctor Manson, a medical professional. “Is this a cancer project?”

“Cancer, AIDS, tuberculosis, leprosy, the common cold... _everything_ , Doc,” Stark says. “A pal of mine happens to be immune to all forms of infection, illness and disease. Two pals, actually, for different reasons. A large part of the project’s gonna be decoding and cross-referencing their unique genetic structures to find out why, and reverse-engineering it into the cure for all human illness.  Does that sound like fun or what?” The elevator stops and opens, letting them out into an open-plan laboratory filled with the most lavish selection of high-end equipment that Betty has ever seen. It’s breathtaking, and gives Betty a childish urge to run around and look at everything. A few of the others are gaping a little. Dr Nican recovers enough to start questioning Stark again.

“Who is this team leader to be?” Nican asked. “You have not mentioned him before. I can think of few eminent scientists in our field who are not here already.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’s a genius, and this is _me_ talking,” Stark says, looking around. “Just so you know, while Jarvis runs the building, these labs are run by a sub-AI of a more clinical bent. The team leader didn’t find Jarvis’ sarcasm particularly useful for a medical project, for some reason. Hey, Yinsen, where is the big guy?”

“The ultracentrifuge, sir,” a synthesized voice says smoothly. Stark nods and strolls off between the machines and stops by a desk where the large grey machine is rumbling away. A large man in a dark shirt and trousers is bent over the machine, watching some readouts. Betty’s view of him is obscured by the angle he is standing at and the other researchers, and she can’t see him clearly, but her heart skips a beat when he speaks.

“When you said this place was Candyland, you weren’t kidding,” the man says dryly as Stark claps him on the shoulder, not otherwise looking up or reacting. “I know the job offer came with an apartment upstairs, but I think I’d be happy with a bed between the picoteter plates and the operant chambers...”

“You’ve spent too much time in the third world,” Stark says. “Let me spoil you. Anyways, I found the labcoats you recommended. I know he’s been off the radar awhile, but perhaps some of you have heard of Doctor Bruce Banner?”

He’s taller than she remembers, more filled-out, as if he’s closer to a transformation, but it’s him, it’s Bruce, and though it’s deeply unprofessional Betty can’t stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I figured that Betty would keep her maiden name for professional reasons, but then I realized that I was writing her as trying to get away from the stigma of her previous work and when I think about it she’d probably want to dump her dad’s name as soon as possible anyway.  
> Also, in the MCU I don’t ship Bruce/Betty, probably because Liv Tyler’s performance and complete lack of chemistry with anyone at all has scarred me :x But I really liked Doctor Samson and I think he’d be really good for Betty, as well as a good friend for Bruce, so I pretty much ship that, yeah. I kinda envision that Bruce and Betty return to being good friends, but with her happily married and him purposefully staying out of romantic relationships, never anything more.


	16. Soviet Asgard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 867
> 
> Main Character(s): Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinsson, Loki Odinsson
> 
> Notes: Based off of headcanon #747 from TheAvengersHeadcanons: Natasha knows every Soviet Russia joke. She makes her teammates howl with laughter when she says “horse ride you” or “food cook you” in a genuine Russian accent and a straight face. (Submitted by gabumon-noodles)

“I don’t get what that has to do with Soviet Russia,” Steve is saying when Natasha walks into Tony’s living room. Bruce, Tony and Steve are all sitting around the same computer screen, with Tony clearly in the process of explaining something.

“Well, the thing about Soviet Russia was that people were watched, all the time,” Tony explains. “’Least, that was the story. You were being watched all the time, whatever you did. So instead of you watching television…”

“In Soviet Russia, television watches you?” Natasha says, half for the chance to revert to her “normal” accent (part of her wants to keep thinking of it as her real accent, even though she speaks in it so rarely) and half for the shocked expression on Tony’s face. “Yes, Stark, I have been on the internet.”

“So the joke grew that things went backwards in Soviet Russia,” Bruce explains calmly, slightly imitating Natasha’s accent when he says “Soviet Russia”. It’s always hard to tell when he’s taking the piss or not. “Television watches you. Dinner eats you. Car drives you. So on and so forth.”

“This internet of yours is a strange thing,” Thor says. He’s apparently taking part in the internet lesson as well, since he’s on another screen staring down Non-Stop Nyancat. “What is this strange creature grown from a pop-tart, and why does it appear to be excreting rainbows? I have never seen such a strange thing upon the Bifrost.”

“It’s what happens to pop-tarts when they get to a thousand years old,” Tony says, rolling his chair along to Thor’s screen. “The Soviet Russia joke would be that in Soviet Russia, pop-tarts eat you!”

“That does not sound funny at all,” Thor says with a frown. “It sounds quite disastrous.”

“It’s funny because it’s absurd,” Bruce explains gently. “Some things are funny because they’re impossible.”

Thor nods, though he doesn’t seem to entirely understand. Natasha suspects that the Asgardian definition of “absurd” is rather different from the innocent Earth definition.

“So, for example… in Soviet Russia, picture draws you?” Steve says. Tony high-fives him.

“Exactly!” he says, clapping his hands together. “They grow up so fast…”

“There are thousands of them,” Natasha says, rolling her eyes and slipping back into her accent again. “Umbrella opens you, car drives you, horse rides you…”

Thor suddenly bursts out into riotous laughter. “In Asgard too!” he chokes out, doubling up laughing. Everyone stares at him.

“I guess he just got it?” Tony says, a little nonplussed by Thor’s hilarity. Thor suddenly gets up and leaves the room, still laughing.

“I think it was the horse one,” Steve says. “Well, I don’t know if they have cars or televisions in Asgard…”

“Or umbrellas,” Bruce adds. “Anyway, I’ve found this site in particular to be really useful for catching up on the internet…”

After a few minutes, they’re distracted from Knowyourmeme when Thor comes back, dragging a disgruntled Loki by the arm. The Trickster is holding a book in one hand with his thumb marking a place, evidently not appreciating having his quiet time interrupted. He hasn’t tried to kill any of them in a long while, but drawing his ire is still not a popular pastime, since his sense of humour is even more inappropriate than Tony’s and he has magical powers to back it up.

“…so things are reversed,” Thor explains. “Lady Natasha, you must repeat the last one that you told me!”

Loki jerks his arm out of his brother’s grasp and rolls his eyes, silently consenting to wait patiently for Natasha to lay some pitiful mortal “wit” on him.

Natasha glances at the others. Steve shrugs. “Do it for science!” Tony says. Bruce facepalms, then peers out at Loki to see what his reaction will be.

“In Soviet Russia, horse ride you?” Natasha says, looking quizzically at the Asgardians. Loki’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Ideal place for you, brother!” Thor hoots, slapping Loki on the back and bursting out laughing again. Loki’s expression darkens suddenly and he literally throws the book at his brother. By the time it reaches Thor, though, it is not a book but a giant tarantula that immediately latches onto Thor’s face. By the time Thor has wrenched off the huge arachnid and smashed it under Mjolnir, Loki has stormed off.

“Ah,” Thor gasps, looking a little shellshocked as he picks spider legs out of his hair. “Still somewhat sensitive about that affair, I see.”

“Are you going to explain that to us now?” Steve asks. Thor shakes his head.

“Better not to,” he says, staring sorrowfully on the smashed gunk stuck on Mjolnir and walking off to clean it. Natasha wrinkles her nose at the disgusting mush left on the carpet.

“He’s gonna _have_ to explain that one,” Tony says, “Because I’m coming up with some pretty twisted mental images here.”

“They’re from Asgard, anything could have happened,” Bruce says, turning back to Steve’s computer screen. “Now, that other picture you asked about, the dog with the rainbow background…”

Natasha leaves again, deciding to hole up in her flat and catch up on her television until Clint gets back from his latest assignment so she has someone sane to talk to.


	17. I'll Be Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 2358
> 
> Main Character(s): Bruce Banner, Shanta Banner, Tony Stark
> 
> Notes: See the first oneshot, Flowers, for details on who Shanta is. Shanta starts school, but she’s not used to being without her daddy. Bruce isn’t used to having someone with him all the time, and doesn’t realize how much he’ll miss it.

Six months after Shanta comes to live in Stark Tower, Natasha asks Bruce if he’s going to start her at school in the fall term.

“Why, don’t think she’s getting a thorough enough education here?” asks Tony, who’s fiddling with a car engine. “Whaddya think’s missing?”

“Carburetor,” Shanta says, enunciating carefully and pointing at the piece in question. Tony congratulates her and trades her his bag of raspberries for it.

“Not just for her education,” Natasha says, “thought she’s a very clever girl and could do well with one. She needs to meet other kids, too, not just middle-aged superheroes. It can be very lonely for a little girl not to have friends her own age.”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Bruce confesses. “But her English is coming along brilliantly, and she’s used to New York now… Shanta what do you think about going to school?”

“School?” Shanta asks, brow furrowed. “What is school?”

They explain school to Shanta and she is most excited, as Natasha predicted, about getting to meet other children. Jarvis recommends a prestigious international boarding school which is nearby enough that Shanta can attend as a day student. It boasts students from over 70 countries, which will prevent Shanta and her still somewhat shaky grasp of English from standing out too much. Bruce worries that they’re too close to the beginning of term to enrol Shanta, but Tony points out that, as a private school, money talks, and a little donation on top of the enrolment fee gets Shanta in no problem.

Bruce thinks that he’s spent far too much time around Tony when he writes out the cheque without being too bothered by the vast sum. On top of that, there’s a flurry of shopping for school and sports supplies, getting a uniform fitted and looking over the curriculum and timetable. Very quickly, it’s time for Shanta’s first day of school.

Shanta is bouncing with excitement on the drive there. Bruce has insisted on driving her himself, instead of letting her be chauffeured, but now he’s so nervous that he can barely concentrate on Jarvis’ satnav directions. Since he adopted her, this will be the first day that he and Shanta spend apart. He’s terribly worried about sending her off on her own, about not being able to watch over her. He supposes that most of the parents sending their children to school today feel this way— or at least, the childrens’ nannies probably do. Then again, none of them are capable of literally bursting through the classroom wall if they get too nervous.

Before long, they’re out of the main city and part of a trail of expensive cars and posh taxis taking the children to school. The first day is orientation and settling in rather than lessons. Only a small handful of children commute.

Bruce feels a little out of place among all of the expensive cars. He’s spent too long hitchhiking along back roads and he has to remind himself that he’s driving one of Tony’s Aston Martins rather than a rusty pickup.

“Here we are,” Bruce says, finding a parking space. The spaces are very large, possibly because a dented door could cost thousands. “Have you got your bag?”

“Yes! I have bag!” Shanta says, bouncing to her feet and pulling her laptop bag over her shoulder. She has a top-of-the-line StarkTech notebook that weighs almost nothing, along with the pencils and math tools that Bruce remembers as school supplies.

Bruce gets out and takes her hand to lead her to the school gates, where children with luggage-carrying chauffers are being checked in by teachers. They are greeted by a middle-aged lady in a sharp suit and horn-rimmed glasses.

“It’s a pleasure to have your daughter attending our school, Dr Banner,” she says, shaking his hand and smiling brightly. “I hope she will find her time here rewarding. My name is Mrs Teazle, and I am the head of the History department. Shanta, if you would like to follow Miss Robinson over there, you can wait with the other commuting students for the resident students to get settled in.”

Shanta looks confused. Mrs Teazle has a British public school accent and talks quite quickly, and it doesn’t look like Shanta has entirely kept up. Bruce crouches down and squeezes her shoulder.

“Follow the girl over there,” he says, pointing to an older girl who is directing a couple of children through an archway. “She will tell you where to go. Be good, and I will see you at four o’clock, okay?” He gives her a hug, standing up and letting go of her hand. “Go on.”

She takes a few steps and looks back, suddenly looking scared. “Where is daddy going?” she asks.

“I’ll go home until you’re done in school,” Bruce says. Shanta runs back and hugs his legs.

“Don’t go, don’t go!” she begs. Some of the other children are staring as Shanta starts to panic.

“Really, dear,” Mrs Teazle says, looking shocked. “There’s no need to make a scene!”

“It’s alright,” Bruce says mildly, though he’s irritated at the woman. “She’s not used to being away from me. Shanta? Would it make you feel better if I waited for you out here? If you look out at the car park, you’ll see me waiting right here. Okay?”

“I suppose that’s alright,” Mrs Teazle says. “I’ll take her in myself. Come along, Shanta, dear.” She holds out her hand. Bruce nods and Shanta nervously takes it, allowing herself to be towed across the grounds, though she throws nervous glances back at Bruce every few steps.

Once she’s out of sight, Bruce goes back to the car and watches the other kids going in. The car park emptied steadily as first the taxis left, then the chauffers, finally leaving Bruce alone with a few cars that presumably belonged to some of the senior high school students.

It’s a pleasant August day, so Bruce opens the sunroof and climbs up to sit on the roof of the car. He crosses his legs, puts his hands on his knees, closes his eyes and begins to meditate. He’s occasionally brought back to the surface by the bell tolling for the change of class periods. Once or twice, he thinks he spots Shanta at a corridor or classroom window.

Eleven o’clock is the morning interval. A few of the children gather at the gate to the car park to wonder about the odd man who’s been there all day. Shanta appears too, smiling brightly when she sees that he’s still there, which makes Bruce feel significantly less stupid. She then runs off with a couple of other little girls, but returns twice during the fifteen-minute interval to check that he’s still there.

At lunchtime a number of the older students come out to get their cars and go out for lunch. Several of them stare suspiciously at Bruce.

“Excuse me,” a boy of about seventeen says, walking over to the car. Bruce slips off of the roof. “What are you doing here, sir?”

“My daughter started here today,” Bruce explains. “She’s very nervous, so I got permission from Mrs Teazle to wait here for her. You can check with her; my name’s Dr Banner.” He holds out his hand and the boy shakes it cautiously.

“Doctor Bruce Banner?” one girl pipes up. “Who recently produced the paper on subatomic particle acceleration?”

“That was me,” Bruce confirms. “Well, half of it was Tony, but never ever give him that much credit.” The girl actually squees and digs into her bag for her notebook.

“I’m hoping to study theoretical physics in college, and can I say your work is _inspiring_?” she breathes, holding out a jotter and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?”

Bruce returns to his meditation after they’ve gone. It feels unusual to him to be recognized _positively_ … to be _inspiring_.

Shanta comes to check he’s there twice during the lunch hour, and once during afternoon interval.

At quarter to four, Bruce gets down from the roof as other cars start to pull up. There are only about fifteen commuting students out of two thousand, and as most of them also attend extracurricular activities, only three boys and one girl leave at the same time as Shanta. They are all younger than her, but Shanta is the one to come charging out and fling her arms around Bruce.

“You are here, Daddy!” she says excitedly.

“Of course I am,” Bruce says gently, picking her up and carrying her around to put her in the passenger seat. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Shanta nods, looking relieved. She’s not been very talkative about her early childhood, but it’s clear she’s been left before. Bruce can tell that The Other Guy has a strong desire to meet whoever abandoned Shanta and do what he does best.

“So, how was your day?” Bruce asks to divert his thoughts. As he turns on the car, his phone comes on and he notes about fifteen petulant messages from Tony asking when he’s going to come home and play. “What did you do?”

“We are taken on tour of school, and introduce to many teacher,” Shanta explains. “Of new children, many are small, but some are bigger like me and some are bigger more!”

“So do you think you know your way around?” Bruce asks. Shanta frowns.

“No,” she decides. “Is very big. But is okay, because all class go together, teacher say. I am talking often to Chogyel, because he is from Kolkata also and he speak Hindi. He explain many things. His father is general and is rich, so send him here to learn. I sit with Maeve…” she pronounces the name slowly, heavily accenting the V. “She is from Ireland country, but her family live now in New York for many year because of Proddy and Kaffic gangs fight, she say. I think… she talk very fast and I not understand all she say, but she is nice…”

Shanta soon relaxes, talking happily about her day, and so Bruce relaxes too.

{}

The next day, Shanta leaves the car on her own, but she still seems nervous, so Bruce promises to wait for her again. She has classes today, so he hopes she’ll worry less and enjoy school.

He meditates for most of the morning. Shanta only checks for him once at interval before running off with the dark-haired girl that must be Maeve. She only checks once during lunch as well. Bruce ends up spending most of the afternoon on the phone with Tony, talking him through why building a lightsaber onto his suit is a bad idea. He doesn’t bother trying to explain the impossibility of the task to the mad engineer, who will probably just take it as a challenge. He doesn’t see if Shanta looks for him in the afternoon interval.

After school today, Shanta is walked to the gates by Maeve and an Indian boy who is probably Chogyel. On the way home, Shanta talks with considerable excitement about her lessons and what they’re going to learn. She doesn’t seem to have taken to History much, though.

On the Wednesday Bruce goes for a drive for a couple of hours in the middle of the day. At the end of the day he’s sure that Shanta never noticed, but she looks scared as she runs out of the gates. Her expression when she spots Bruce is of utter relief.

“I do not see you at lunch,” she says, flinging her arms around him. “I scared you leave. Maeve and Chogyel say you do not leave, because such things do not happen here in America, but I am anyway scared… I am sorry, Daddy.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bruce says, giving her a hug. “If you’ve been left alone before, then it’s perfectly understandable to be scared of it happening again. But you know what?”

“What?” Shanta sniffs. Bruce puts his hand over his heart.

“I give you my word,” he says solemnly, “that I will ALWAYS come back for you. Always. You know what happens to men who break their word?”

Shanta giggles. “Uncle Thor make smash with Mjolnir!” she declares.

“Exactly!” Bruce laughs. “I swear it under threat of being smashed by Mjolnir, Shanta. I’ll always come back.”

“Okay,” Shanta says, nodding and grinning brightly. The Other Guy wants to smash somebody even more. Bruce tunes him out, focusing on Shanta telling him about the clubs and societies that the school has. She’s thinking of joining the hockey team because Maeve is on it.

On Thursday, though he worries about doing it, he leaves in the middle of the day. He doesn’t even go far, just out of sight of the school, and spends the entire time bickering with Tony over the phone. The madman is now trying to figure out the logistics of building a portal gun. Bruce isn’t entirely sure what that is, aside from that it’s from a video game, but he thinks Tony really ought to get back to work on improving his Ark Reactor technology. Tony whines that “real science” is no fun without Bruce there. The whole argument serves its purpose, at least, making Bruce forget to worry about Shanta.

At the end of the day, Shanta is very calm when she leaves school, jumping happily into the car.

“I see you leave at lunch, but you promise to come back,” she says simply. “At lunch I play computer game with Maeve and Chogyel and other friend. I win much! They not as good at game as Uncle Tony! But Saori get sad about lose much, so I help her win one…”

{}

On Friday morning, Bruce leaves soon after the first classes start. He goes back to Stark Tower and drags Tony away from trying to program a Porygon and into the serious lab work, but Bruce is so jittery himself that they don’t get a lot done. He checks his phone dozens of times for calls from Shanta and fends off a lot of teasing from Tony about being a “doting Daddy”.

At the end of the day he arrives half an hour before the end of classes. He hears the final bell ring and sees the few children who are collected be picked up, but Shanta doesn’t come out. He checks his phone a few times, but there’s nothing from Shanta. She comes out forty-five minutes late with Maeve, who gives her a hug and waves her out.

“There you are,” Bruce sighs, giving her a hug. “I was worried about you, Shanta.”

“Sorry, Daddy!” Shanta gasps. “Maeve want to show me book she has. I cannot read all words easy, but she says maybe we read together and I learn the words? We sit and read and I forget time!”

“It’s okay to stay and play with your friends after school,” Bruce says, pulling out the car. “Just give me a call and let me know, okay? So I know where you are and don’t have to worry.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” Shanta says, smiling at him. “I promise I always come back!”

Bruce smiles. Shanta’s going to be alright at school.


	18. And Now For Something Completely Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Avengers writer meme.  
> by *KHwhitelion  
> DA Music Meme for Writers  
> 1\. Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, whatever. In this case: The Avengers  
> 2\. Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs.  
> 3\. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs either.  
> 4\. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.

Addicted- Kelly Clarkson

03:56

She wanted to wipe the red out of her ledger. She wanted to so badly. She could never look back without guilt, without shame, without the desperate desire to do things over.

And yet, every new mission, every new chance to _fight_... it sent a rush of purpose through her like nothing else. She would lose herself in logistics, in playing others like a harp, in fighting, and never think about what she was actually _doing_ until the end.

Or what it was doing to her.

At least these days, working for SHIELD, her missions left her with less guilt, less shame, but it didn’t change the fact that every one sent her body count higher. And this one had gotten under her skin in a new way. Loki had seen right to the heart of her, and even he might not know how hard he had hit.

_There is no redemption._

_There is no redemption and every mission will only bury you further._

It was true. She was buried, and she was stifling. But she was addicted.

And the next time she was called out for a mission, she would not hesitate to answer that call.

 

The River-

03:15

Loki watched night and day roll over this strange, round world. Asgard was a land of eternal sunrise, or sunset- he wasn’t sure which. It was the first time he’d ever thought about such things. The sky was just a constant, beautiful aurora-

He cut off those thoughts. Thoughts of home- of _Asgard._ Asgard was not his home, and he would not accept Jotunheim, the land of monsters. He would have to make this world, Midgard, his home. His kingdom. The kind of kingdom it was his right to rule.

There was the faintest whisper in his mind that he should stop now, go back to Asgard. Maybe they would be happy to see he was alive. But the words were faint, and he pushed them back with ease. He knew that it couldn’t be true. He was the monster that his bro- that _Thor_ had fought on the Bifrost, the traitor who had let Jotuns into Asgard, the tool that Odin had never had chance to use.

There was neither home nor deliverance for him to take. He would just have to make do.

 

The Story of Us- Taylor Swift

04:25

“Come home,” Thor begged Loki. “Just stop this and come home!”

“I have no home,” Loki spat. It broke Thor’s heart to see the twisted, broken creature that his little brother had become.

“Do you truly believe that?” He cried. “That we would abandon you so easily? Come home with me, to our parents! We can work things out! Just talk to us!”

“Your parents, Thor, not mine,” Loki snarled. “I _killed_ my father, did you not notice?” Thor flinched. He had, perhaps deliberately, avoided thinking about Loki killing Laufey, and about who Laufey really was.

“Your parents too, if you’d just open your eyes and accept them!” He yelled. “We did not abandon you, Loki! _You_ abandoned _us!_ But it’s not too late... please...”

“Save your breath,” Loki said softly, and for a fleeting moment, Thor saw the great sadness in his brother’s eyes. “We both know that there is no going back for me now. We can never again be brothers as we once were. So what’s the point in _trying_?!” With that, he swung his spear at Thor again. Thor ducked and rolled, smacking the spear aside with Mjolnir, despite having a clear shot at Loki. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt him directly. Not yet. But he’d have to.

“ _If only we could lay down these weapons_ ,” he thought sorrowfully as their battle resumed over burning New York. “ _You need only say the word, brother..._ ”

 

Brooklyn Rage- YGOTAS

03:55

Bruce’s mind was on _fire_.

It always felt this way. He had faint, dim memories of it always feeling this way, but he was always too in the moment to remember fully. He grabbed a Chitauri warrior and flung it into four others without even thinking. It was there. Smash it. _Smash_.

And yet, there was an unusual level of thought going on. Part of him was actually _planning_. Run this way, it whispered. Clear this street, you can run straight through the ground floor of that store to the next one. We can hear more warriors there. I can hear them.

The Chitauri shot at him, but he barely even felt it. The barest registration of sensation. They couldn’t touch him. They couldn’t beat him. He could beat them, though. Smash them all into the dust.

Smash them into the ground, he thought. Not through windows. Less property damage.

Chitauri warriors were heading towards the bridges, towards Brooklyn, the rest of New York. They would not get there. Bruce’s rage would reach them first.

He could destroy them all, and he was loving it. It was pure, and it was free, and it was _burning._

S-S-S-Saturday- Bowling For Soup

03:05

“It’s Saturday night, Banner!”

Bruce jerked away from his microscope, having nearly stabbed it into his eyes in surprise. Only his glasses saved him. He automatically regulated his breathing to drop his pulse rate back down as he glared at his errant boss and best friend. “So it is,” he said, glancing at his watch. “So?”

“Been in the Third World for too long?” Tony Stark said. “Or the lab? It’s time to go out, relax, party, maybe get laid- well, not me, I’m taken,” he corrected himself. “But we could get you laid, maybe!”

“I can’t get excited, Tony,” Bruce said calmly, shutting down his current experiment. Tony rolled his eyes and slapped himself on the forehead.

“Well, Captain Tight-pants is back in town, we can get _him_ laid,” he said. “The last girl he dated is on a walker now. I don’t even know if he’s ever _been_ laid. In which case, as his friends, it is our duty to get him some!”

“This is going to end badly...” Bruce said, unable to resist a smirk as he and Tony left the lab.

 

A Tear To Shed- The Corpse Bride

02:35

 _I could have been a ruler. I should have been a ruler_.

Resentment whirled in Loki’s head as he sat silently in his prison, waiting to face Asgardian justice. He should have been ruler of Midgard. What did Thor have that he didn’t, that he would be a better king? Perhaps greater brute strength, but Loki had always been cleverer, a greater magician, more composed, a better liar...

Less trustworthy. Less compassionate. Murderer. _Genocide_.

He had just wanted to be like Thor, that was all. As good as the all-perfect Thor. Thor had said that he would kill all of the Jotuns himself, so was Loki using the Bifrost so different? He had just wanted to be like Thor...

A single tear slid down his cheek, and he almost tried to laugh. Huh. So he did still have those after all.

 

Complicated- Avril Lavigne

04:04

“Why did you have to do this, Loki?”

Thor stood inside of the cell, looking sorrowfully at the pitiful, bound figure of Loki. He had removed the muzzle, hoping to talk to him, but Loki had only stared blankly at his feet, not reacting to Thor at all, as if he wasn’t there. Perhaps he had known this would have hurt the most.

“Why did we have to... misunderstand everything?” he said softly. “You should have said something sooner. You did not have to be me... you had so many fine qualities that I do not. You could have been great, in your own way...”

“But never as great as you,” Loki said spitefully. “Never as great as the mighty Thor. No matter what _fine qualities_ I had.”

“Why decide that on your own?” Thor asked him. “You decide what others are thinking and always think the worst. Despite what you think, we never thought the less of you for what you are.”

“Just the choices I made,” Loki said. He still hadn’t looked up.

“...Yes,” Thor said regretfully. “I wish you had chosen differently, Loki. I wish that things had been simpler, that they had not gotten so... _complicated_.”

“What good do wishes do us now?” Loki whispered, his voice fading away entirely. He spoke no more, to Thor or anyone, lost in his own words again.

 

Hakuna Matata- The Lion King

03:3

“Up here again?” Tony said, kicking the door to the roof access closed behind him. Bruce was leaning on the railing, staring down to the city streets so very far below. Such a position was unnerving to most, but Tony had given up worrying about it. They both knew that it wasn’t Bruce that would hit the ground, that it would be futile anyway, and would probably only kill somebody else.

“What if I’m immortal, like Steve?” Bruce said softly. “What if I have to go on like this forever? What if I’m here when the sun burns out or goes supernova? Could I die even then?”

“It’s a long way off, Bruce,” Tony said with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned against the railing, looking in at his bar instead of out at the city. He spotted Bruce giving him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t worry?” he said. “That’s all you’ve got to say.”

“...Yup,” Tony said after a moment of thought, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do about it, right? So live for the moment, and don’t worry. No point in it. Want a drink?”

“...Sure,” Bruce said, stepping away from the edge again.

 

Shot Through The Heart- Bon Jovi

03:44

Natasha had been on the edge ever since those three little words. _Barton’s been compromised_. She hadn’t even seen it coming. Not that Clint would be brainwashed- though really, who could have predicted that?- but how hard it had hit her.

She’d been foolish. She’d _relied_ on him. As a battle partner, and as a friend. As the only confidante who really understood her. As if she needed that. What was she, some nervous schoolgirl that needed a BFF to whisper all her secrets to?

But somehow it had happened. The damage was done. Clint had gotten _in_. And now she was faced with a terrible thought. What if she had to fight him? What if Loki’s brainwashing could not be undone, and he had to be killed? Clint was an incredibly dangerous opponent, she knew that well. He had to be taken out from under Loki’s control by any means necessary. If he had to be killed, he had to be killed. She knew that. But...

Dammit. If this was love, it was the worst. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. She had a job to do.

But it was still there, a shot lodged into her heart.

 

Born For This- Paramore

03:58

There were more Chitauri warriors. Steve took them out left and right, easily spotting the ricochet angles that would allow him to take out dozens at once with his shield and have it return to his hand. Thor had no need of such calculations, not with Mjolnir. They knocked down swathes of them. Black Widow and Hawkeye were easily holding their own, reporting regularly through the comms as they methodically knocked out one street after another, Black Widow’s ground work backed up by Hawkeye’s arrows. Tony was flitting around everywhere, shooting Chitauri out of the air like flies, and Hulk... well, he didn’t have a comm, but it was easy to know where the giant green engine of destruction was, smashing apart Chitauri with ease while ignoring civilians and his teammates.

It was working. They were a team. They were _seamless_. The pressure was on high, with the fate of the world at stake and the lives of the citizens of New York in their hands, but right now, they were working flawlessly, they were winning, they were _doing_ it.

They were protecting the people. They were protecting the earth. They were doing what they were born to do, and it felt perfect.


	19. Post Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 2457
> 
> Main Character(s): Loki Laufeysson, Thor Odinsson, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton
> 
> Notes: Nobody comes out of warfare entirely whole. Saving the world isn’t the end of the struggle.

Immediately after the Battle of Manhattan, Loki was taken into SHIELD custody. He was muzzled for safety’s sake after spitting a few spiteful insults at his guards, but the mere fact that he felt the need so just underlined the fact that since his beatdown at the hands of the Hulk, all of the fight had gone out of the Trickster God. Without the staff, the Tessarect or the Chitauri, he was much less of a threat.

The Avengers, prompted by Tony, descended back to the streets of Manhattan for shawerma. Tony paid the propetiers of the half-destroyed joint enough to repair their entire street to feed the worn-out team.

Tony, as the one who’d suggested the dinner, felt it was his duty to eat, but his adrenaline was still running high from his brush with death and he wasn’t feeling all that hungry and didn’t end up eating a lot.

Steve, despite his high metabolism normally allowing him to eat like a horse, couldn’t do much more than pick at his food. He was mentally and emotionally exhausted, not to mention more physically tired than he’d ever really been, and felt like he could do with a while lying down and just letting his brain catch up.

Clint was _famished_ , having not eaten for three or four days, but he knew that if he stuffed himself he’d make himself sick, so he nibbled and tried to stay awake.

Natasha only chewed because it was something to do, and it kept her from collapsing entirely onto her plate.

Thor barely saw his food. Thoughts and worries about his brother were churning inside of him, leaving him with a sick feeling, and he only ate when prompted to by Tony.

Bruce ended up eating most of everybody else’s. Two transformations in less than a day took a huge amount of energy, and he was both starving and exhausted.

{}

Tony walked steadily along the platform, letting Jarvis remove the Mark VII. He tried to board the elevator, but he couldn’t even get inside. His legs gave out after two steps without the suit. He could feel himself shaking all over, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Through the cloud of rising panic, he cursed. He’d thought he was getting _better_ about this.

He had felt this way before. He ought to have expected it. After missions, after battling Obadiah, after the fight at the Stark Expo. As soon as he removed the suit, as soon as he was no longer Iron Man… Cap had no idea what he’d asked. As soon as he was Tony Stark again, he had to go through it all again. Explosions. Gunfire. Screaming. And it all scared the hell out of Tony Stark, ringing in his ears, making his head pound, and filling his chest with a million tiny points of pain that made it impossible to breathe.

He pressed his hands over the Ark Reactor as he gasped for breath. It hadn’t been this bad in a long while. Then again, he’d been closer to death today than he had since that terrible day in Afghanistan, four years before. He screwed up his eyes, trying not to remember the desert, but the lights that flashed behind his eyes became stars and a burning Chitauri fleet.

He didn’t know how long he lay on the floor, curled in on himself, trying desperately to breathe, but suddenly Pepper was there; prying up his fingers so she could hold his hand, running her fingers through his hair, talking about how she’d seen it on the news midflight and how scared she’d been for him and how glad she was that he was alright now, _it was alright now._

He clung to her. Pepper. She was always there. Except in Afghanistan, she hadn’t been there in the desert. But that was alright, because she was home. If he was with Pepper, he wasn’t in the desert, he wasn’t dying, he was home and safe and everything was alright for now…

He slowly uncurled and sat up, his breathing evening out. As soon as he started to relax, Pepper started nagging him about flying through the portal, she was proud of him for saving Manhattan and all but his suit wasn’t outfitted for space flight and he could have been _killed_ …

“Hey, it _worked_ , didn’t it?” Tony said indignantly, throwing himself into the argument. A little domestic bickering was soothing, in an odd way. Arguing with Pepper was another bit of normality, another bit of home. Just to fuel it up a little more, he brought up his little face-to-face with Loki.

“ _Without_ your armour?!” Pepper screeched. “Are you _mad_?!”

“Well, yeah, I kinda was!” Tony shouted back. He was pleased that his lungs didn’t hurt anymore. “I mean, that bastard killed-” he cut himself off, his eyes suddenly hot as he backtracked. Oh _god_ , what was he _thinking_? He didn’t want to break this to Pepper, but she was looking scared and confused and he _had_ to tell her, if only to spare her finding out another way. “Agent Coulson,” he choked out. “He killed Agent Coulson.”

“Phil?” Pepper gasped. Tony nodded. Tears started running down Pepper’s cheeks, and Tony could feel some on his own. He let them flow as he wrapped his arms around Pepper. They sat there for a while, just holding each other, comforting each other. Just the two of them.

{}

Bruce was still hungry when they returned to Stark Tower. Most of the others wandered off into the guest bedrooms that Jarvis directed them to, but Bruce headed for the kitchen. He ended up collapsing on Tony’s sofa, munching his way through a big stack of toast as he slowly drifted off. He was on the edge of consciousness when Tony and a pretty strawberry-blonde stepped out of the lift, puffy-eyed and arms around each other as if they were holding each other up.

“Hey,” Bruce mumbled. “S’ry, stole some’ve y’r food.”

“Don’t sweat it, big guy,” Tony sniffed, flopping on the couch next to him. “Bruce, this is most definitely the better half, Pepper. Pepper, this is the less smashy half of Doctor Bruce Banner.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Pepper said, smiling weakly, and then stifling a sob. “Sorry, I just heard…”

“Heard?” Bruce asked, trying to wake his brain back up. What was she crying about? Heard what? Heard about him, about The Other Guy? Was she afraid of him? “Heard… what?”

Tony must have caught his look, because he clarified, “about Phil.”

“Phil?” Bruce asked, confused. He was really too tired to be trying to think, and he couldn’t identify who “Phil” was. Tony’s face fell.

“Shit, that’s right, you won’t know,” he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face resignedly. “Phil Coulson. Loki… killed him. On the helicarrier.”

A faint vision of a serene man in a suit swam into Bruce’s brain, following Steve around like a puppy, swapping orders with Natasha, talking with Thor, snarking with Tony. He forced his eyes properly open to look at Tony as saw that he was shaking slightly, the backed up fear and exhaustion and grief all collapsing over him. Bruce recognized the ravages of PTSD all too well.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony slung his arm over Bruce’s shoulder, the other wrapped around Pepper, his breathing shaky.

Bruce finally passed out, mumbling condolences into Tony’s shoulder.

{}

Clint was out like a light the second his head hit the pillow. In his line of work, though, being a heavy sleeper was dangerous. He woke from a twisted nightmare about eyeballs the second his door opened.

He instantly recognized Natasha’s footsteps, even before he cracked his eyes open and saw her peering intently at him. She was breathing a little quickly, as if she’d been running.

“Still me,” Clint murmured, reaching out and squeezing her hand. He opened his eyes, letting her see them. “…Right?”

“Right,” Natasha said quietly, squeezing back, assuring him that his mind is alright. “I didn’t want to have to concuss you again. I’m saving that for Tony. Have you seen the nightclothes he had stocked for me?” Clint notes that while he managed to grab a shirt and sweatpants that were left folded in his room and were conveniently his size (so that was what Tony kept texting about during shawerma), hers were extremely oversized and baggy. “I had to steal these from Banner’s room. He must have crashed somewhere else, he wasn’t there.”

“I heard him talkin’ to Tony,” Clint said. His room was closer to the living room than Natasha’s. “Sounds like he’s still him, too.”

“Good,” Natasha sighed, rocking back on her heels. “Sorry for waking you up. You need your rest.”

“So do you,” Clint said, not letting go of her hand. “C’mon.” He got up too, even though his legs felt like lead laced with pain. He made a mental note to _always_ shoot the windows out first in the future.

He ended up having to lean an arm over her shoulders to stay upright. She wound one arm around his waist and leaned into his side as the two of them wandered down the hall, supporting one another again.

Bruce, Tony and Pepper were all curled up on one end of the long, semicircular couch. Bruce had fallen asleep with his head on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony was sound asleep on Bruce’s head. Pepper was curled up, half next to Tony and half on top of him, one hand over his Ark Reactor. One swollen red eye cracked open for long enough to give Natasha a wan smile before she drifted off again.

“See?” Clint whispered, nodding at Bruce as he sank down on the other end of the couch. “All calm.” He more or less fell backwards onto the couch, not feeling up to the trek back to his room. It really was _ridiculously_ comfortable. Natasha seemed to agree.

“Mmmm… oh, good, you’re all here.”

{}

Steve changed into the shirt and sweatpants left in his room and flopped down on the ridiculously soft bed- _definitely_ not military issue- ready to pass out, but he couldn’t. He lay there for what felt like hours, too afraid to fall asleep.

He’d felt this way before, the first time he’d tried to go to sleep in his new 21st-century apartment. He’d been unable to help the irrational fear that if he went to sleep, he’d wake up to find that another seventy years had passed. But the fear had passed, and hadn’t been quite as acute as this.

He knew why. In the past two or three days- it felt like so much longer, he had to remind himself that it had been less than a week since the Tessarect had been stolen- he’d become part of a team again, like back in the day with the Howling Commandoes. He’d been _part_ of something again. He hadn’t felt alone anymore.

He couldn’t lose them again. He just couldn’t.

He heard running feet in the hall outside. What was going on? Did something happen?

He got up and stepped out, walking past the doors to Bruce and Natasha’s rooms. The doors were open and the beds empty. It was the same for Clint’s room, and Thor’s. It was making Steve feel alone and nervy.

The feeling blissfully dissolved as he stepped into the living room and saw the five people dozing on the long, round couch. Tony and Bruce were leaning on each other on one end of the couch, with a red-haired lady sleeping on top of Tony with one of his eyes tight around her. Steve guessed that she was Pepper Potts, mentioned in the briefing on Tony Stark as his “girlfriend/babysitter”. Steve wondered what her parents thought of her sleeping with Stark like that.

Clint and Natasha were on the other end of the couch, also wrapped a little too close around each other for Steve’s old-fashioned comfort. Clint was flat on his back, looking like he’d been dropped there from the ceiling, and Natasha was lying on her side between him and the back of the couch.

“Mmm…” Steve yawned, sitting on the couch between them and the three on the other end. “Good. You’re all here.” His sleepy brain noted that while there were five people there, they weren’t quite the _right_ five. Where was Thor…?

“Still gonna be here when you wake up,” Natasha murmured, reaching up and patting his hand. “Go to sleep.”

Steve drifted off with her still holding his hand.

{}

Thor sat on the tower roof, staring at the spot where the Tessarect had been, and then looking out across the damaged city. It could heal. He could see lights in the streets, candles and torches where there was no electricity as the citizens of New York set about cleaning up. Some people were playing music somewhere. There were sirens and flashing lights where people were still being rescued from destroyed buildings.

All because of his brother. All because of Loki.

He closed his eyes, holding in his mind the little boy he’d played with, the comrade he’d fought alongside, the man he’d talked with, the friend he’d laughed with. He remembered the brother he had lost.

A raven fluttered down to sit by his side, watching him too closely to be a bird of Midgard. Thor gently stroked its head with a finger. He knew this bird of old.

“Tomorrow, I will return to Asgard with the captive criminal Loki,” he said, looking upon the stars. “Just for this night, one last time… let me think of my brother.”

He stayed there alone until dawn, when he descended below to dream for a few hours with his new bretheren. If only Loki could understand that family could be chosen as easily as born…

{}

Loki sat alone in his cell. He couldn’t even be bothered figuring out if he could escape.

Tomorrow he will return to Asgard. He must face the family he once had, and then he must face justice.

What is to come is out of his hands, and will no doubt be exactly what he deserves. What has been, he refuses to think about. There is too much loss, too much pain, too much that can never be again.

There is a raven sitting in the corner of its room. How it got in, he doesn’t know, but that hardly matters. He will not let this bird see his weakness. He will not let it see his tears.

Instead he laughs, letting the crazed, wild laughter fill the room.  Let him laugh for now, even if he never smiles again.


	20. Captain of What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: The Avengers (2012)
> 
> Words: 2687
> 
> Main Character(s): Captain Jack Harkness, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner, Thor Odinsson, Loki Laufeysson, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson
> 
> Notes: You read that right. This one is definitely a stand-alone as it is Torchwood crossover crack. Pure, utter, terrible crack. I lay the blame squarely at the feet of DragonSigma. No ownie.

“Director Fury,” Natasha said, striding into his office. “Here’s my assessment report. To summarize, I would highly recommend retaining him in a consulting capacity, as I did with Stark, rather than hiring. He’s been a team leader for too long, I suspect there’d be too much conflict with the dynamic of the team as it is now. Among other control issues. He’s worse than Tony Stark.” She handed over the folder to the director. “But there is nobody on earth more knowledgeable about alien threats.”

“I note that you’ve convinced him to come meet with the team to go over the Chitauri incident,” Fury said, reading the report, “but you’ve neglected to mention how.”

“I felt that detail unnecessary, sir,” Natasha said coolly. “The detailed version is rather extensive, if you do require it.”

“No need,” Fury said, setting the folder down. “This man has expressed no hostility towards Earth in about 200 years of known residence. We do need his knowledge and resources, if our experiments with the Tessarect and our alliance with Asgard are indeed a calling sign to the universe.”

“Are we going to assemble the team on the Helicarrier, sir?” Natasha asked. Fury shook his head.

“You mentioned a possible personality clash, and I ain’t havin’ that happenin’ 30,000 feet above the sea,” Fury said, putting away the folder. “If anybody’s place is gonna get trashed, it’s gonna be Stark’s. ‘Least he don’t have to go to the government for repair funds.”

{}

“Hey, Steve,” Bruce said, greeting the soldier as he stepped out of the lift and into the bar/lounge on the top floor of Stark Tower. It had become something of a communal place whenever several of them were in New York at the same time. “How was Germany?”

“It’s actually a beautiful country,” Steve said, sitting himself down on a couch. “When you’re not looking at it tactically, I mean. It’s the first time I’ve been there that nobody tried to kill me.”

“Eh, what’s a vacation without a near-death experience?” Tony said, pausing the video game that he was playing with Clint to wave at Steve.

“Normal?” Bruce suggested.

“Boring,” Tony said, nodding. He switched the game off. “Remind me never to play shooters against you. Why did I think that was a good idea?”

“Actually, the accuracy of this game’s terrible,” Clint said, dropping his controller. “How the hell are you supposed to aim right?”

“Where are Thor and Natasha?” Steve asked.

“Natasha’s escorting in this consultant we’re meeting,” Bruce said. “I don’t know about Thor.”

“Jarvis? Any clue?” Tony said.

“Miss Foster reported that he left Oslo four hours ago,” the AI reported. “Given Mr Odinsson’s average flight speed, he should be arriving in approximately ten minutes.”

“He’s flying himself?” Steve asked.

“I offered him a plane, but he says he flies faster,” Tony said with a shrug. “He’d eat me out of inflight meals, anyway.”

“So who is this guy that we’re meeting?” Bruce asked. “Steve, Clint, do either of you know?”

“Consultant from Cardiff is what I heard,” Clint said with a shrug. “Former British military and secret service. Apparently, he’s an authority on extraterrestrials. The WSC actually suggested him. I’d call that unusually helpful of them if they couldn’t have brought him up _before_ New York got invaded by aliens. Seems like the Brits have been keeping a lot of alien interaction under their belts.”

“Keep calm and carry on!” Tony piped up, miming raising a cup of tea.

There was a rumble of thunder outside, and Thor dropped down onto the balcony outside.

“Greetings, comrades,” he said, slinging Mjolnir onto his belt as he stepped inside. “How does everyone fare this day?”

“We’re doing well,” Steve said. “How’s Miss Foster?”

“Engaged in some very exciting research regarding anomalous star patterns,” Thor said, looking pleased. Thunder rumbled outside.

“Y’know Fury hates it when you drag stormclouds with you?” Clint put in. “The quinjet’s flight can get pretty messed up in rough weather.”

“They shall clear up momentarily,” Thor said dismissively. “When shall the man we are to meet arrive?”

“Miss Romanov had estimated her arrival time to be in twenty-four minutes,” Jarvis offered. “In the meantime, a briefing on Captain Harkness has been transmitted.” A photograph of a dashing, dark-haired man appeared on one of the holoscreen windows, with information sheets appearing on the others. “Name: Jack Harkness, not his real name, real name unknown. Age unknown, estimated to be upwards of two hundred. Reputed to be immortal.”

“Y’know, he looks kind of familiar,” Steve said with a frown. “Can I see his military record?” The requested document appeared onscreen. The man had seen active service during the Boer War, World War One and World War Two. “We worked with a British special unit a couple of times in Poland. I wonder if I met him there.”

“Hey, you two old buddies can hang out and share war stories,” Tony said, reading one of the briefing forms. “Y’know, if I didn’t know you guys, I wouldn’t be buying any of this. This guy’s supposed to have been shot, stabbed, drowned, trampled and blown up and he’s still alive?”

“Well, it says he _does_ die, he just don’t stay that way,” Clint observes. “Wonder if it’s another super-soldier serum? I once spent two months chasing rumours of a guy like that in Canada. Never found anything.”

“I’d kill for a blood sample from someone with a healing factor like that,” Bruce says thoughtfully.

“Well, you can,” Tony points out. “He’ll be fine in a few minutes!”

{}

“Gentlemen, I’d like to formally introduce you all to Captain Jack Harkness,” Natasha said, stepping out of the lift with the Captain in tow. He was as tall as Steve and wearing a dark, old-fashioned long coat. He was also even more handsome in real life than he was in the photo. Everyone thought it, nobody admitted to it.

“Captain Harkness, I think we met in Poland in about ’44?” Steve said, shaking his hand. “I’m the leader here-”

“Captain Rogers!” Captain Harkness said, smiling brightly and shaking Steve’s hand. “I remember you! I never forget a pretty face in a tight uniform. I heard you’d gone missing in combat?”

“Just got frozen for awhile,” Steve said.  “They found me a couple years ago.”

“Good to have you back,” Jack said. “Your unit were really broken up about losing you. Nice guys. I managed to cheer a couple of them up.”

“Oh, thank you,” Steve said, looking in confusion at Tony when the man sniggered. “Anyway, Natasha you’ve already met. I’d like to introduce you to Agent Clint Barton, Doctor Bruce Banner, Tony Stark and-”

“I knew your old man back in the day too,” Jack said, nodding to Tony. “Had a few _wild_ nights out. Maria was a lovely woman too, and an absolute _saint_ to tame Howie. Far too good for him, probably.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tony said. “Nice to meet you, Captain Harkness.”

“And this is Thor, son of Odin,” Steve said, introducing him to the last member of the Avengers. “The Thunder God… well, an alien, strictly speaking, from the planet Asgard…”

“Hey, just ‘cause my speciality is fighting aliens doesn’t mean I’m against them,” Jack said, making the rounds of shaking everyone’s hands. “Some of my best friends have been aliens. Some of my best lays, too.” He winked at Thor, patting his bicep as he walked past. “So, anyway, Chitauri, huh? _Damn,_ they came a long way to screw up New York…”

{}

They spent three days discussing the Chitauri attack, getting alien invasion simulations programmed into Jarvis’ holographic simulation subroutine, and evidently winning enough of the Captain’s trust to be let in on some of Torchwood’s extraterrestrial records. Captain Harkness was a charming guy, who managed to get some alone time with every one of the Avengers.

“Can I see the Ark Reactor?” he asked Tony. “Just curious.”

“Sure, why not,” Tony said, stepping back from the hologram of Loki’s staff and pulling up his shirt. Jack leaned _extremely_ close to have a look; it would be called too close for comfort if the guy didn’t smell so damn nice.

“Oh, very nice,” Jack said eventually. “Very, very nice. Like the reactor, too,” he added, straightening up with a wink. “This really is ahead of its time. We’ve got power supplies that don’t look too different from that when I’m from. Smaller, more powerful, but the basic design…”

“ _When_ you’re from?” Tony asked sceptically, dropping his shirt.

“Oh, just you wait,” Jack said, grinning. “You’re at the beginning of a _very_ exciting time here…”

{}

“That was interesting,” Jack commented as Bruce stepped out of his Smash Room, a little sweaty pulling the tie on his sweatpants tighter. “Gamma imbalance, from the looks of it. I know a really good doctor that could have a look at that for you, y’know.”

“It’s alright,” Bruce said. “The Other Guy and I are getting along pretty well these days. He’s handy to have around when there are aliens invading the planet or anything. You could say that he’s the brawn and I’m the brains.”

“You’re not exactly skinny yourself,” Jack laughed. “Are you the only guy in the tower that doesn’t wax?”

“That is not a question I’ve ever asked the others, to be completely honest,” Bruce said, reaching for his shirt.

“C’mon,” Jack said, “don’t tell me you never noticed…”

{}

“You’re from Asgard, right?” Jack said, catching Thor making himself a batch of pop-tarts. Tony had installed a huge twelve-slot toaster in his kitchen for this very purpose. “I’ve only been there once. _Gorgeous_ place, absolutely beautiful. Gorgeous people, too. I mean, _wow_. Pretty sure I’ve got some Asgardian ancestry myself, if you couldn’t tell,” he added in a low tone with a dazzling grin.

“Ancestors of Asgard?” Thor asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, Midgard and Asgard are about to mix in a _big_ way,” Jack said. “Citizens of earth are about to get even prettier, and Asgardians are gonna get a hell of a lot more mellow. Y’know, some humans worry that if they go out into the Universe they’re going to end up in wars with everywhere, but truth is, humans are the greatest dancers there are, if you know what I mean… make love, not war, and all that.”

“You are a very strange human,” Thor said, plucking the finished pop-tarts out and piling them on a plate. He picked up one to eat, but Jack leaned over and snatched a bite.

{}

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Jack said, striding out of the roof access door with his hands in his pockets and standing on the roof edge, looking out over New York. Clint didn’t bother to make him step back or warn him about the high force winds that tended to hit the building this high up. The previous day, Jack had shot himself in the heart, lay medically dead for about two minutes under Bruce’s watch, and then gasped back to life. If he wanted to risk having to deal with the hurt of falling fifty stories, that was his business. “Wait ‘til you see New New York. That’s _really_ a city that never sleeps, by then they’ve invented the sleep pill- drop the pill, sit down for five minutes while your brain and muscles get refreshed, and then you’re back at it again for twelve hours. Took ‘em a few goes to get it right, of course, early batches came with heart and lung problems, so you might want to steer clear of that.”

“It’s fine, if we wanna go sleep-deprived we can always whack each other with that staff of Loki’s,” Clint said with a shrug. Jack smiled sympathetically.

“Mind control’s never fun,” he said. “Though I gotta say, it’s still better than outright manipulation. At least with mind control, you’re being, well, _controlled_. There’s more than a few slick bastards out there who can make you do the worst shit, while convincing you that it’s all your own will, all stuff that you _chose_ to do. Not fun.”

“No,” Clint agreed, nodding tersely. Jack backed away from the roof edge, sitting down next to Clint.

“So… come up here often?” the Captain asked with a laugh. “I find high places easier to think at, myself… it’s amazing what a bit of a view does for you…”

{}

Everyone gathers in Tony’s bar on the evening before Jack has to leave. Thor has brought aesirmead, so once the drinking starts, almost everyone goes down pretty quickly and even Thor ends up staggering out, singing loudly and happily. Jack and Steve, however, cannot get drunk, so both of them end up sitting up, drinking the nectar-sweet mead and reminiscing about the war. Jack talks about what he knew about Steve’s men after the army.

“Well, saw old Falsworth quite a few times,” Jack said, taking a long pull of his mead. “He and I worked with the SSR for quite a while. Went out for a while, too. Not all that acceptable in those days, though, not like it’s really going to be, and he got so _Britishly_ uncomfortable about it.” Jack laughed as Steve shifted awkwardly. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Captain?”

“No, no,” Steve insisted. “I keep hearing people say it’s not very Christian, but you know, the way I remember it the Bible was all about love, at least that’s the way I was taught as a kid… I guess it doesn’t matter that much if it’s a man and a woman or two men or anything, right?”

“Exactly,” Jack said warmly, putting his hand on Steve’s.

{}

Jack made his goodbyes in much the same way that he greeted everyone. Everyone came to see him off, including Pepper, and he shook everyone’s hands and gave everyone a kiss goodbye. He claimed it was customary when he was from, and nobody bothered contradicting him. There were quite a few red cheeks and averted eyes once the Captain had left.

“Oh, damn!” Tony suddenly said, slapping his knee. “I meant to ask him about- what was that thing he did, Pepper, that made you-”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper hissed, now bright red. Tony looked around unabashedly.

“Yeah, like we were the only ones that slept with him,” he said with a broad, unashamed grin. “Jarvis sees all, y’know, guys.” Pepper stalked from the room, extremely red. Steve also bolted, which made Tony laugh.

“I, uh, did some diagnostics on his blood,” Bruce said, apparently trying to change the subject. “Crossing it with samples of my blood and Steve’s might lead to some breakthrough work on our genetic structures to unlock cures to, well, everything…”

“Give me something sciency to pitch the board and I’ll get you some funding,” Tony promised. Thor and Clint got up to leave while the two mad scientists discussed matters.

“He also naturally produces an extraordinary pheromone,” Bruce added placidly. “All but irresistible to humans.”

“So that’s why he smelled so good,” Clint muttered, before catching himself and leaving quickly.

“Did he smell that good to you, Thor?” Tony asked, grinning. “I mean, you’re not human, so, y’know, in the interests of science-”

Thor was already gone. Tony laughed again.

“The Other Guy liked it too,” Bruce muttered, unable to help laughing himself. Tony could be infectious, almost as much as Captain Harkness.

{}

Agent Coulson arrived to escort Captain Harkness out to a quinjet after the debriefing aboard the Helicarrier. On the way out, the Captain gave both Maria and Director Fury a slap on the ass.

Fury gave Maria a Look that said that he would never ask her if she never asked him. She nodded and went back to her work.

Captain Jack Harkness and Phil Coulson sat down in the quinjet. The pilot reported that it would be three hours until they reached Wales, starting from where the helicarrier was in the midatlantic.

“Three hours, huh?” Jack said, putting his hand on Phil’s knee. “We’ll have to find some way to pass the time, won’t me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … I don’t even know what just happened. I’m not even sorry.


	21. Public Dangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Captain America: The Winter Soldier
> 
> Words: 2894
> 
> Main Character(s): Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner
> 
> Notes: The presence of the former Winter Soldier in Stark Tower makes things a little tense for everybody, but he’s not the only source of tension now that SHIELD is gone. Even without SHIELD, though, the Avengers are still a team, and they protect their own.

“Hey, Bruce? I don’t know if Jarvis tipped you off, but those cultures you were keeping in bio-lab 2? One of them kinda…” Tony trailed off as he walked into Bruce’s kitchen/dining area and found three super-soldiers of varying success levels gathered around Bruce’s table, eating casserole.

“Hey, Tony,” Bruce said, gesturing to a seat. “Want some? Steve was asking me about brain chemistry and I mentioned that scent and taste can be great memory aids, and he ended up making casserole. It’s really good. What happened to my cultures?”

Tony took a seat next to Bruce, nodding to Steve and looking somewhat warily at the man sitting between Steve and Bruce. It had been three weeks since Captain America had turned up at the tower, carrying a half-dead Winter Assassin and begging for Tony’s help protecting and hiding him, and Tony still wasn’t entirely sure that saying ‘yes’ had been the smart thing to do.

Bucky Barnes looked up at him, but didn’t show any real response. He went back to focusing intently on his casserole, as if the secrets of his past were baked into the crumbs.

“Oh, uh, one started expanding,” Tony said. “And by expanding I mean I had to send it an intern with a prototype flamethrower to destroy it because if I didn’t, it would’ve been roughly the size of the building by now according to Jarvis’ calculations. Uh, sorry about that.”

“Probably culture #5,” Bruce said, looking undeterred. “Does Jarvis have security footage of it?”

“Yes, sir, and biometric scans,” Jarvis reported. Jarvis’ voice coming from nowhere always made Barnes look around with an oddly hunted look. Tony wondered if he had a thing about hearing voices, or if something discomfited him about being spoken to by somebody that he couldn’t see, but he hadn’t asked. He generally avoided being in the same room as the former Hydra assassin, never mind having a conversation.

“Hey, this _is_ good,” Tony said, taking a few bites of casserole.

“It’s Bucky’s mom’s recipe,” Steve said with a grin. Barnes looked up at him, watching him carefully. “She taught me how to make it one time when I was staying over at theirs… happened a lot when I was a kid and my mom had the night shift at the hospital.” He looked hopefully at Barnes, who shook his head.

 _No memory of that, then,_ Tony guessed. He piled some more onto his plate. “Damn, you guys made a lot,” he commented. “Where’s the elephant you’re feeding?”

“Tony, you’re the only person at the table with a normal metabolism,” Bruce said dryly. “Steve and Bucky both have metabolism that burn five times faster than the average human, and mine swings between two and fourteen depending on how long it’s been since I last Hulked out and how long it lasted. You’re the only one here who couldn’t out-eat an elephant.”

“Bet I could outdrink one, though,” Tony quipped back. “Warn me the next time you’re gonna breed something green and slimy that’s gonna try and take over my tower, willya? I got flashbacks to dealing with Loki.”

“Sir, loathe as I am to interrupt your meal, as this is the first time you have eaten in eighteen hours,” Jarvis said, “I must inform you that General Ross has just entered the lobby.”

Bruce closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “Shit,” Tony muttered. “He’s like a goddamn telemarketer, waiting until I sit down to eat…”

“Who’s General Ross?” Steve asked.

“A pain in my ass,” Tony sighed, standing up. “I’d better go tell him to get the hell out of my building.”

“He’s head of a military division that was working on recreating Dr Erskine’s serum,” Bruce explained calmly. “I was working for them until I had a little overexposure to gamma radiation. General Ross has been chasing me ever since, trying to lock me up and experiment to reproduce the Hulk. He doesn’t really care about how I feel about that. SHIELD was protecting me, legally and actively, but now… frankly, I’m amazed he waited this long to come after me.”

“He wants to experiment on you?” Barnes asked.

Steve stood up so fast that his chair slammed backwards and fell over. “I’m going down there with you, Tony,” he said firmly.

“Be my guest,” Tony said. “Ross is a good military man, so he _hates_ me, but he might have a harder time telling Captain America were to shove it.”

“I’m just going to remind him that experimentation on humans without their consent is illegal and immoral,” Steve said, squeezing Barnes’ shoulder as he walked past. Barnes was looking down at his casserole again, his robotic left arm fisting tightly.

“Take us down, Jay,” Tony said as he and Steve stepped into the lift. The glass doors shut and they began to descend towards the lobby of the building, which was public access, mainly because it contained the largest shop of Avengers memorabilia in New York, every penny of the proceeds of which went to various charities selected by each Avenger. People lapped it up.

Steve had crossed his arms, making every pumped-up muscle in his torso flex. Another muscle was ticking in his jaw. Tony wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen the super-soldier this agitated, not even when Loki’s staff had been playing merry hell with the team.

“I wish I could say that Ross is with the US army, and that means that he isn’t gonna do to Bruce what Hydra did to your buddy,” Tony sighed, “but honestly? The Winter Soldier’s programming in the Hulk’s body is probably Ross’ ideal soldier. If he’s found out that Barnes is here, Ross’ll want him as much as Bruce.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve growled.

“Yeah, my cold corpse is among the things Ross is gonna have to crawl over if he wants to lay a single finger on anybody living in this tower,” Tony agreed. “Add to that the rubble of the tower itself, because Jarvis has a lot of protocols in place to make it physically impossible for Ross or any of his flunkies to get anywhere but the lobby. Seriously, have you seen the stuff I put in after Loki took a wrecking ball to the top of the building? The upper floors can withstand a full-on airstrike these days, it’s great.”

“Could he call in an airstrike? In New York City?” Steve asked, looking shocked.

“I think he’d try,” Tony said with a shrug. “Maybe that’d finally get him taken in for a tribunal or something, get him taken out of the military entirely. That’d make life easier for everyone. I mean, him hanging around the lobby frightening my staff and guests is kinda annoying, and since SHIELD went down Bruce has been kinda worried about leaving the building in case he gets dragged into an army Humvee while walking down to the bakery, y’know? A guy can’t stay inside all the time.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve sighed, leaning back against the rail. “Thanks for helping me protect him. I mean—”

“Does he remember?” Tony asked abruptly. “That he was the assassin who killed my parents?”

Steve sighed again, looking down. “Sometimes,” he said at length. “His memories come and go. Sometimes he remembers who Howard was but not that he killed him, sometimes he remembers the car crash but not who he was contracted to kill… he remembered both, once, for a while. For what it’s worth, he started crying. He was horrified when he realized that he killed Howard. He cried until he couldn’t remember why he was crying.”

Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, staring through the glass doors as the lobby came into view, five floors below them. Across from him, he could see offices full of people that he paid to handle the copious floods of money that flowed in and out of the accounts of Tony Stark, not one of them knowing that every day they went to work in the same building where the most dangerous assassin of the century lived.  “I’ve tried telling myself that Hydra’s to blame, not him,” he said at length. “That it was Hydra who had my parents killed, and that Barnes had about as much agency as a bullet does when it splatters someone’s brains onto the carpet. Doesn’t always help.”

“But you let us stay anyway,” Steve said. “You helped me hide him, you fixed his arm… thank you, Tony. Really. I don’t know if I’d be able to protect him alone.”

The elevator hit the ground floor and halted, the doors sliding open. Tony straightened up, rolling up his sleeves. He wasn’t wearing his Iron Man mask, but he still imagined a target lock homing in on General Ross’ face across the lobby.

“Well, y’know, once you see how fucked up he is… it can be kinda hard to keep wanting to punch a guy in the face when he’s staring at his mom’s casserole recipe like it’s some kinda lost treasure,” Tony said. “See uniform with the stick so far up his ass it’s coming out his mouth? That’s Ross. Let’s go tell him how we feel about human experimentation.”

Ross was arguing with a desk clerk, and was flanked by four flunkies, all of whom stopped glaring at passing tourists and office workers to glare at Tony instead as he approached. The intensity of their glares faded and their expressions became uncertain as they noticed that Captain America was walking towards them with a fierce scowl on his face. The clerk just looked relieved that it was no longer her responsibility to try to make Ross understand that he was barred from the building.

“General Ross, how good it’s been not seeing you,” Tony said, plastering on the fakest grin he could muster. “Are you getting bored now that there’s no SHIELD legal department to argue with all day?”

“I’m here on military business, Stark,” Ross snapped, before turning to Steve and saluting. “It’s an honour to meet you, Captain Rogers. I’m General Ross.”

“I know who you are, sir,” Steve said, not returning the salute. “I understand that you’re here for Dr Banner.”

“Absolutely,” Ross said with a grim smile, clearly expecting to secure Steve’s support. “The Hulk is dangerous and needs to be contained. Besides, Dr Banner was contracted to create his serum for the use of the US army, meaning that he’s absconded with military property. With him in custody, we could finally replicate Erskine’s formula—”

“If you’re just looking to replicate Dr Erskine’s formula, wouldn’t requesting my assistance be more productive?” Steve said pointedly. “After all, I’m the only living recipient of Dr Erskine’s actual formula, and my transformation was clearly more successful than Dr Banner’s.” Ross’ grin froze. “Besides, Dr Banner seems to have the hulk pretty well contained of his own account, and if he hasn’t consented to working with you then I cannot allow you to take him.”

Ross’ smile vanished. “Captain, the safety of the American people—” he began.

“General,” Steve interrupted, “when I volunteered for Dr Erskine’s program in ’42, it was to keep the American people safe from the kind of men who captured men and experimented on them without their permission.”

“In case you boys haven’t brushed up on your military history lately,” Tony added, “look up the infiltration of Hydra’s Italian fortress in ’43. That should give you a pretty good idea of what’ll happen if you try to experiment on anybody in this building without their consent. Only this time, it won’t be a solo infiltration. And probably more of an attack than an infiltration, really.”

“Are you threatening the US military?!” Ross snarled. “How dare you! Who do you think you are? You’re out of control! Ordinary people aren’t safe with people like _you_ running loose!”

“Goddamn it, Pot, one of us is gonna have to go change out of black and it’s not gonna be me,” Tony said. “So why don’t you get the hell off my goddamn property?”

“I’m not going anywhere without Banner,” Ross growled.

“General, you’re trespassing, and that means that you are infringing upon the rights of the American citizens living and working in this building,” Steve said firmly. “If I have to remove you in order to protect them, I will.”

“Sir,” one of the flunkies muttered to Ross, “there’s a lot of people here. More than a few people have already pulled out their cameraphones. Mounting a public offensive against Captain America would be…”

Ross snarled and turned on his heel. “I’ll be back for a warrant for the lot of you!” he shouted back at them.

“That’s what they all say, sweetheart,” Tony called. He turned to the clerk and her manager, who was hovering nervously behind her. “Ma’am, you dealt with General Ross for nearly ten minutes without crying or punching him. That might be the most impressive superpower I’ve ever seen. Sort this woman out for a bonus.”

“Thank you, sir,” the clerk said with a grin. “He’s just a blowhard, sir, even if he is a blowhard with an army.”

“A big bonus,” Tony said, giving the woman a thumbs-up and turning back to Steve. “Excellent work, Captain.”

“Good working with you, Mr Stark,” Steve said, shaking his hand.

{}

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

Bruce looked up from his casserole in surprise. Steve and Tony had left a slightly awkward silence in their wake, and he hadn’t expected Barnes to be the one to break it.

“Does the idea that they might take you scare you?” Barnes clarified, taking Bruce’s silence for confusion rather than surprise.

“Well, yeah… I mean, Ross catching me has been one of my biggest fears ever since the Other Guy first happened,” Bruce admitted. “Not as much as it used to be, though. I used to be alone, see. I was on the run all the time, scared of getting attacked at any moment… I don’t know what I was more scared of, really. Them successfully catching me, or them driving out the Other Guy and me waking up surrounded by bodies…” Barnes nodded slowly. “But then SHIELD started covering for me, I guess, because Ross just kinda vanished. I got time to get a handle on things, to get control of the Other Guy… and, y’know, even with SHIELD gone, it’s still kind of a comfort to know that, if Ross takes me, Iron Man’ll come blasting through the wall…” He put some more casserole on his plate. “Hey, if it helps, we’d come for you too, if Hydra or anyone got you. Steve definitely would, Sam would definitely go help him, and I’d back them up in a heartbeat. Tony, too. You wouldn’t be just left.”

Barnes looked a little dumbfounded. “Are you afraid of being taken away?” Bruce asked softly.

“Maybe,” Barnes said. “I didn’t think I could feel anything. I can’t remember what it’s like to be a person. But I… like the idea of having memories and being a person again. It’s better than being nothing. They’d take that away again, and if they did…” he looked up at Bruce. “I guess I’m not scared that you wouldn’t come for me. I’m afraid that if you did, it would be too late, and I’d kill you all.”

“If it’s any consolation, you can’t actually kill me,” Bruce offered. “It’s actually physically impossible.”

The corner of Barnes’ mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile, but it was the closest thing to one that Bruce had seen on the man’s face since he’d arrived. “You’d protect him from me, wouldn’t you?” Barnes asked. “Steve. I don’t want to hurt him, I know that much. I don’t want to kill him. Even when I don’t know anything else, I know that. If I forgot again, for any reason, and tried to kill him, would you protect him?”

“Of course I would,” Bruce said, tapping the side of his head. “The Other Guy and I get on pretty well these days.”

Barnes nodded, then went back to eating casserole. He kept clenching and unclenching his left arm. Tony had confided in Bruce that the servos in the arm could be remotely tracked and controlled by Jarvis, in case of any incidents. Bruce wondered if Barnes knew, or remembered.

The first few times he’d transformed into the Hulk, his immediate feeling, on turning back, was relief that he’d turned back at all. He’d had nightmares, sometimes, of turning into an uncontrollable monster and never, ever turning back. Barnes didn’t show a lot of expression, but Bruce had seen the familiar undercurrents of that fear more than once. He was stuck between Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, and he might be for the rest of his life.

Then again, if Steve was anything to go by, there was no telling how long that might be.

“Want a humbug?” he said, getting up to go over to a jar on his counter. “Steve has tons of these old-fashioned sweets. If you visit him, he hands them out like he’s your grandpa or something. Got pretty stuck on these. I dunno if they were your thing back in the day, but it can’t hurt to find out, right?”

Barnes nodded, accepting the green sweet with a mumble that might have been an attempt to say “thank you”.


	22. Nowhere To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Captain America: The Winter Soldier
> 
> Words: 1534
> 
> Main Character(s): Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers
> 
> Notes: The Winter Soldier is running outside his program and running down. Somebody’s always looking for him. It never occurred to him that maybe, once in a while, that’s a good thing. (I’m still writing lots and lots of Winter Soldier fic. Literally nothing is more important to me right now than the mental health of the Winter Soldier and oh my god I think I need to go see that movie a fourth time.) This takes place a few weeks before Public Dangers.

He’s trained to ignore pain. Pain heals away in time, and he’s never been away from a handler for this long. They decide what needs to be dealt with, how to deal with it. He carries out the mission and returns, or he’s to die trying.

The Winter Soldier hadn’t completed his mission. He hadn’t returned. He’d crawled out of the Potomac and at first, he’d simply focused on staying hidden. Getting undercover. Stealing clothes, thing she could conceal his weapons in, disposing of empty guns and broken knives. Then…

Nothing. He had no objective to complete, no mission to wait on. All he had were his weapons, some stolen clothes, and the face of his last target, refusing to get out of his head.

He should have been thinking of how to find the man, how to kill him, but he wasn’t. He should have been tracking the man, finding his hospital, breaking in to kill him while he recovered, but he wasn’t.

Mostly, he was wishing he could forget the man existed. He should go back to base and get a wipe. But he didn’t. He wanted to forget the man and didn’t, and most of all, he didn’t want to kill him. 

He felt lost and confused; his unthinking instinct to obey, to follow orders, was suddenly up against wall, something older and unmovable. He didn’t want to hurt that man.

So he’d gone to the Smithsonian to find out more about him, Captain Steve Rogers, Captain America, the man he knew and didn’t know. Seeing his own face had been a surprise, of a kind that he had no idea how to react to. The kind of surprises that he normally faced on missions were the kind that he could shoot, and his muscle memory was itching to shoot out not just the glass print of his face but every single civilian around him. Every witness.

He didn’t. He’d read the information, every piece about James Buchanan Barnes, the Howling Commandoes and Captain America, and then he’d started walking.

Then the first Hydra agents had found him, and he’d started fighting, started running.

Nearly a week after being awoken from cryo, he staggered through a forest, not sure where he was or where he was going, but knowing that he was not in a fit state to fight the Hydra team that was tracking him. His muscle responses were getting slower and slower and he kept falling unconscious whenever he stood still for too long. His throat was painfully dry and his stomach was aching with hunger, and the pain wasn’t going away, wasn’t healing away like wounds did. He was dizzy, and lost, and his vision was fading, and his left arm no longer responded at all…

He stepped over the remains of a long broken-down barbed wire fence. He could see buildings through the trees. Cover, maybe, a chance to dig in and create somewhere to fight from, but he was down to knives. He’d have to be able to get the drop on them, engage them close up…

They weren’t buildings. They were piles of rubble. He staggered through the dust and broken stone, looking for—anything, he didn’t know what. Anything that could function as cover, as a weapon, _anything_.

He’d been moving too slow. He should’ve realized that if the Hydra agents hadn’t caught up to him, it was because they were preparing an ambush. The first bullet went through his right arm.

He immediately dived to the ground, pressing his back to a pile of rubble, blanking the pain, moving his arm to see how much it could move. It was so, so hard. His flesh arm felt almost as heavy as his metal one. He drew a knife from its sheathe on his hip and backed around the rubble, constantly checking up and around him, trying to find a spot where anyone trying to hit him would have no choice but to come within his reach.

They knew what they were doing. They circled him at a distance, guns trained on him. None of them fired, they simply encircled him. There were eight of them, all too far away for him to rush any one of them.

“Soldat,” one called. “Come with us.”

The Winter Soldier’s first thought was to wonder how many American assassins he’d killed in the past few days if they were getting in a team from Germany. Then he wondered if they thought that he only spoke German, or if they thought that it was his native language. Then he wondered if it mattered.

He had an order.

He stood, dropping the knife and raising his right hand. His left arm wouldn’t move at all, hanging heavily at his side, dead weight. He couldn’t raise his right arm very far, either, but it was high enough for the commander, the one giving the orders, to nod, to gesture with his gun for him to step forwards. He did so, letting his arm drop to rest on the back of his neck.

The other seven circled closer as he approached. One holstered her gun and produced a syringe.

“Good,” the commander said with a smile. “Come with us.”

Bucky got closer, close enough for the commander’s gun to be inches from his chest, close enough for the woman with the syringe to draw closer.

“You will not be punished,” the commander promised. “We will fix you.”

Bucky’s hand closes around the handle of the knife hidden flat against the top of his spine, the handle hidden behind his long, filthy hair.

“That’s the same thing,” he replied, and in a single movement sliced open the woman’s throat and cut down the commander’s arms. The blade wasn’t big enough to actually slice his hands off, but most of the tendons were destroyed immediately, and he flipped the handle around so he could keep the knife in his hand while grabbing the handgun, turning and shooting three of them in the head before they have a chance to react.

The remaining three immediately dove for cover. The Winter Soldier shot the screaming commander between the eyes, ending his screaming. A shot tore through his left thigh, just above the knee. The shooter had probably been aiming for a kneecap but missed. Another bounced off of his left arm. He started stalking in the direction of the shots, looking for an exposed face or hand, but another shot hit his left side, cracking a rib. He stumbled, and his left leg gave entirely. He fell to his knees, expecting at any second the fatal shot.

There was a flurry of shots. They weren’t from the handguns that the Hydra agents were carrying; they were a semiautomatic. There was a scream as a body collapsed from a pile of rubble. The Winter Soldier looked up as a shadow passed overhead, a winged man swooping down to shoot at a second target.

The last Hydra member leapt out from her cover, firing at the Winter Soldier, intent on finishing her mission even if it took her life. None of her shots connected, not with him. Someone stood in front of him, deflecting every shot until he leaned around his protector and shot the woman in the throat.

It was the man from the helicarrier, the man who knew him. Steve Rogers.

“Bucky,” he said, crouching in front of him. “Oh my god—”

“Don’t call me that,” the Winter Soldier muttered, before remembering to switch back to English. “Don’t call me that,” he repeated. His voice was a faint wisp.

A pained expression crossed Rogers’ face. It hurt, a pain that he couldn’t ignore like the bullet wounds. “Sergeant Barnes,” the Captain said. “Please let me take you to get medical attention.”

 _Please_. The word was familiar, but in his head it was associated with targets, with victims. In some half-memory, the word echoed on the lips of a thousand people pleading not to die.

Nobody ever used it to ask him to live. Nobody ever asked him to live at all. Living involves being _alive_ , being a _person_. Not a tool that needs to return to the toolbox at the end of the day for cleaning and polishing before being packed away until it’s needed next.

Tools don’t feel pain. People do. Feeling like a person means keenly feeling pain, and hunger, and thirst, and _so goddamn tired._ He didn’t understand why he clung so desperately to it, but he did. The alternative was letting go and burying his knife in the throat of the man in front of him.

Burying it in his own throat seemed easier, and less painful.

“We gotta move,” the man with the wings said, landing next to the Captain. “One of them was on his radio. I don’t speak German, so I don’t know what he was sayin’, but it means somebody’s on the other end and probably knows our location. We gotta go _now_.

The Winter Soldier tried to stand, but his vision went black and all he could feel was falling. Arms wrapped around him, and he felt again, something new, something pleasant.

He felt safe.


	23. Best Friends Are Nothing But Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Captain America: The Winter Soldier
> 
> Words: 3854
> 
> Main Character(s): James Rhodes, Tony Stark
> 
> Notes: Pretty much directly follows the last one. Rhodey’s used to drunken phone calls from his best friend, but normally they don’t feature drunken mumblings about murdered parents and phantom super-assassins. In which I continue to spew feels and headcanons wildly all over the place.

James Rhodes pulled his phone out of his pocket on the walk out to his car, switching it on to check his messages. Since the fall of shield he’d spent a lot of long days surrounded by panicking military and Pentagon officials, sifting through the dumped files, compiling lists of people to be arrested, to be hunted, places for surgical strike teams to attack, incidents where the Iron Patriot would be needed. Today he’d been on a mission to take out a Hydra research base hidden in a bent bank. The Hydra agents working there had been long gone, along with their data, but the Iron Patriot’s firepower had gotten them into the vaults, where they’d found what very much seemed to be a torture chamber. After that had come _hours_ of debriefing and speculation over the purpose and usage of the chamber, so Rhodey wasn’t surprised that he’d missed a lot of calls, including sixteen messages. He began to feel concerned when he discovered that all sixteen had been left in the past hour, and all by Tony Stark.

He simply deleted the messages and phoned Tony, sticking the phone into the car jack as he started up the engine. Tony picked up almost straight away, and, unsurprisingly, sounded extremely drunk.

“ _Rho-DAY! I though’ you was gon’ leave me ta DIE!_ ”

“C’mon, man, you’ve been cutting down on the drink ever since you and Pepper hooked up,” Rhodey sighed. “Ain’t she back from Beijing yet? Is this what happens when she’s away?”

“ _Naahhhhh… s’wha happens when I fin’ out who murdererd m’ mom ‘n’ dad… they were murdered, y’know? I didn’ know, thought it wassa assiden’, dad drivin’ drun’, but no, they were murderrred… I coulda been Batman, y’know? Iron Batman…”_

Rhodey took a deep breath, wishing that he didn’t know what Tony was talking about. One of the released documents that had caused the most panic at the Pentagon was the full kill records of the assassin identified only as “The Winter Soldier”. The records not only linked together several political assassinations which had previously been believed to be unrelated, and in some cases already solved, but cast horrifying new light on a number of “accidental” deaths. The records were only a list of kills, no details on the Soldier himself, making the current popular theory that the title had been passed down through more than one assassin, as the kills were spread over roughly sixty years. Some of the intelligence higher-ups had mentioned hearing of the guy, like a ghost story for assassins. Even if it wasn’t just one agent, though, the fact was that Hydra had had a hand in a frightening number of influential deaths, and two of those deaths were Howard and Maria Stark.

“We’re working on this Winter Soldier dude right now, Tony,” Rhodey promised. “The Pentagon’s trying to locate Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov just now. There’s no details on the assassin usin’ that codename now, but he’s got a 100% kill streak to live up to, so—”

“ _Don’ worry ‘bout it, Rhodey, I know where ‘e is_ ” Tony slurred. “ _’E’s in m’ tower…_ ”

Rhodey nearly swerved off the road as he executed a hasty turn, immediately heading in the direction of Stark Tower. “Tony, where are you?” he demanded. “Where in the Tower are you? Have you built any new suits yet? Where’s the assassin now? Tony, are you somewhere safe? Give me all the intel you can and I’ll call up a strike team—”

“ _Not gon’ work, Rhodey,_ ” Tony said. Rhodey couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying. “ _Gon’ hafta fight goddamn Cap’n ‘Merica t’get to ‘im!_ ”

“Captain America? Tony, what are you talking about?” Rhodey demanded. “Is he in the Tower too? Is the Soldier there for him?”

“ _’E’s here withim…_ ” Tony mumbled. “ _’S’not dan’erous, Rhodey… ‘s jus’ fucked up, s’all fucked up…_ ” There was a _thud_ on the other end of the line.

“Tony? Tony!” Rhodey shouted.

“ _I am sorry, Colonel Rhodes, but I do not believe that Mr Stark will be able to finish the call, as he has fallen over and is currently lying on the floor and crying_ ,” Jarvis said, the AI smoothly cutting into the call.

“Jarvis, can you tell me what the hell is going on?” Rhodey demanded. “Is Tony okay?”

“ _His blood alcohol levels are growing alarming, but he is in no imminent danger_ ” Jarvis said calmly. “ _Four hours ago, Captain Rogers arrived at the tower in the company of Sergeant Sam Wilson and an unconscious individual whom Captain Rogers identified as both the Winter Soldier and Sergeant James Barnes, formerly of the Howling Commandoes until his believed death in 1944. While he was still sober, Mr Stark activated my Banner security protocols for him._ ”

When rebuilding Stark Tower after New York, Tony had told Rhodey all about the various new security measures that he was putting in place. Banner protocols meant that The Winter Soldier was being offered every security that Stark Tower had to offer, including against any and all world militaries, but also that certain measures were active that would allow Jarvis to contain the man at a moment’s notice using methods that SHIELD had designed for Hulk containment. The latter part of these protocols had been put in place at Dr Banner’s instigation, not Tony’s, which meant that Tony was offering protection to someone that he felt he had more need to be scared of than the Hulk.

“So Captain America brought in The Winter Soldier and… what, they’re hiding him? Containing him?” Rhodey asked, trying to get his head around it. “Even with SHIELD down, we still got pretty functional high-security prisons…”

“ _Records on Sergeant Barnes indicate that he was a lifelong friend of Captain Rogers, and the Captain has expressed a desire to protect him, not arrest him_ ,” Jarvis informed Rhodey. “ _I believe that the matter is highly delicate. Currently, Sergeant Barnes is unconscious and in a state of severe injury. Dr Banner is currently treating his wounds with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Wilson in attendance. I am sorry to inform you, sir, that if you express intent to bring military force, I will be forced to prevent your entry into the Tower as part of my lockdown protocols._ ”

Rhodey swore. “I’m comin’ over there to assess the situation myself,” he said, a long day in the company of officers making him say that instead of “I’m coming to find out what the fuck is going on.”

“ _Very good, sir. I shall anticipate your arrival._ ” Rhodey nodded and hung up.

Then he gunned it.

{}

Every nerve in Rhodey’s body was on high alert as the elevator took him up to the private levels of Stark Tower. Part of him felt guilty about not informing his superiors that he had a lock on the Winter Soldier, but that was overruled by the bone-deep desire to _not_ be the next guy to order a military strike against Captain America. All of the people who’d done that so far had turned out to be Nazis, and Rhodey didn’t want to be the combo breaker.

“Mr Stark is lying on the floor under the workstation in the first lab on your right,” Jarvis informed Rhodey crisply as the lift doors opened. Tony didn’t seem to have programmed the AI with much of an emotional range beyond sarcasm (or maybe that was a side-effect of the British accent on Rhodey’s American ears), but the unprompted directions made Rhodey wonder if Jarvis was capable of worrying about his boss.

Tony wasn’t hard to find anyway. He was curled up on his side under a desk covered in suit parts, mumbling quietly. Rhodey dragged him out and over to a medical workstation. It wasn’t the kind of thing that most people had in their mechanical workshops, but Tony had taken to always having one handy for tinkering with his arc reactor. Even now, without the shrapnel in his lungs, there was one humming away in his chest cavity, a new model designed to route 100% of its power output to Tony’s suits.

If he didn’t know better, Rhodey would have thought that Tony had put one of his old palladium reactors back in. He looked much like he had under palladium poisoning; tired, pale, his eyes puffy and red. He wasn’t crying anymore, but he clearly had been. He flailed helplessly as Rhodey lifted him up onto the reclining table, as if he couldn’t really control his limbs. He _reeked_ of expensive whisky, a couple of bottles of which were lying, empty, under his workstation.

“Jesus, man,” Rhodey muttered. “I ain’t seen you this wasted wince your birthday a coupla years ago. You remember, the one where you thought you were dyin’ and we duked it out in your suits?”

“Goo’ times,” Tony said with a giggle. “We gotta do it ‘gain sometime, when I got suits again. ‘M workin’ onna suit now. Gotta fixan arm, too. Anna wings.” He waved his arm vaguely in the air. Assuming he meant to point at the workstation he’d been lying under, Rhodey took a proper look at it and realized that a tangle heap of metal on top was actually a shot-up set of Falcon wings. Next to them lay what Rhodey had taken for an arm from an Iron Man suit, but on closer inspection it wasn’t hollow. It was a full-on arm.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, with a patience less learned from military service than from twenty-five years of knowing Tony Stark, “Start from the beginning. What’s going on?”

“He’s Cap’s buddy, y’know?” Tony slurred. “Back inna war. Th’ one witha Nazis. Bes’ buddy. Bes’ Bucky, hah. But ‘e doe’n’ ‘member, see? An ‘e doe’n’ ‘member killin’ my parents, or anythin’, ‘cause, Hydra, see, this’s where it gets kinna fucked up, Hydra, they fucked ‘is brain up real good an’—Cap got all these files, an’ there’s ‘lectrodes involved, an’ you know it ain’t good when ‘lectrodes involved, an’—Jarvis, showim the things. Getta drin’, Rhodey. You’re gon’ want one. ‘S fucked up. ‘S real fucked up…”

Jarvis stared projecting scans of paperwork in what looked like Russian, with translations alongside. He also projected a 3-D image of a human body with various areas in the head, spine and left arm highlighted.

“What the hell is this?” Rhodey asked, reading some of the scans. There was a lot of medical terminology, but the first document was entitled “Reprogramming Progress” on Jarvis’ translation. From what he read, “reprogramming” seemed to be a euphemism for “brutal torture”.

“Sergeant Barnes’ bloodwork shows the presence of an enhancement serum that is remarkably similar to Captain Rogers,” Jarvis reported, “though the only physical attribute that appears to have been enhanced significantly is his ability to heal. He has clearly received a high level of physical combat training. There are a number of metal spine enhancements, suggesting that the Sergeant broke his back at some point but was capable of healing it with assistance. His left arm is a cybernetic replacement, as is his left eye and ear. Hydra records show that all three items have been replaced and updated on multiple occasions. No surgical scars remain due to the effects of the serum. There are quite extensive records concerning experimentation into what extent Sergeant Barnes is able to heal.”

“I don’t think I wanna hear about that right now,” Rhodey said, feeling sick.

“Very well, sir. There is also metal plating in the left side of Sergeant Barnes’ head, replacing part of his skull. Part of it appears to be removable, and it is connected to several electrodes placed in key locations in his brain.” A projection of a human brain appeared, with flashing lights indicating the locations of the electrodes. Some were buried quite deep. “They are impeding his brain’s ability to heal and, according to medical records, were first installed in 1950, although like the cybernetic parts they have been upgraded on multiple occasions.”

“Jesus,” Rhodey muttered, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he looked from the electrodes to the “Reprogramming Progress” sheet, which dated from 1945. “They been messin’ with this guy’s head for seventy years?”

“So it would seem, sir,” Jarvis said. Rhodey wondered if he was projecting or if the AI really was speaking in a much more sombre tone than usual. “There are a set of protocols for the handling and usage of the Winter Soldier. After a successfully completed assignment, he is to have his memory wiped and then he is to be immediately cryogenically frozen until his next assignment.”

 _Protocols for handling and usage._ Rhodey had seen those words on instructions for the proper use of guns, technical equipment, his Iron Patriot suit. Never a human being.

“Tol’ you it was fucked up,” Tony muttered. “But, but, ge’ thisss, okay—he ‘membered Steve. Was sent to killim, tried to killim, an’ then didn’. An’ when Hydra tried bringin’ ‘im backin, he fough’ ‘em an’ killed a bunch an’ ran away. Steve found ‘im, an’ brought ‘im here, to hide ‘im, so they couldn’ wipe ‘im again, an’, an’—I couldn’ say no, Rhodey!” he argued, waving a finger at Rhodey. “Imma ‘Venger too! We gotta stick ‘gether, no SHIELD! An’ I don’ wanna be the guy who made Cap’n ‘Merica cry!”

“Okay, Tony, calm down,” Rhodey said as Tony nearly fell off of his seat. “Sit tight and imma get you a cup of coffee, okay?” Like the medical station, something that wasn’t found in a normal workshop but was always found in Tony Stark’s was a high-end coffee machine. Rhodey found it within arms’ reach of the tool bench and set it to making whatever Tony’s currently preferred brew was. It probably had way too much sugar. “Where are they now?”

“Upstairs,” Tony mumbled. “Bruce issa nice guy, y’know? Even iffe’s scary an’ green when you pissim off. Steve asked ‘im t’ stitch up ‘is buddy an, no probs, even did it inna guest room ‘cause Cap thinks if ‘e wakes up inna medical room ‘e’ll think ‘e’s inna Hydra base an’ freak ou’ an’ kill everybody.”

“Can’t blame him,” Rhodey muttered, pouring a second mug of coffee for himself. It was very black, and given Tony’s tastes and complete lack of anything resembling a sleep pattern it was probably at least 50% pure caffeine, but Rhodey wasn’t sure that he really wanted to sleep for a few days anyway. Or possibly ever. He returned to Tony’s side and pressed his coffee into his hand. “Look, man, I know the kind of security you got going here, and I know what you’re trying to do, but I just don’t think you’re safe with this guy in the building.”

“No, no, ‘m no’ worried ‘bout that,” Tony insisted. “Did I tellya ‘bout the Banner security? Like, Bruce designed it allimself, y’know, all stuff that can keepa Hulk contained, and this guy ain’t no Hulk, even with ‘is robot arm, which ‘e doesn’ have now, by the way. An’ if Hydra comes lookin’ for him, an’ they’re probably gonna ‘cause tha’s what our lives are, we gotta Hulk. An’ even better, you seen m’ new head a’ security? ‘S Maria _Hill_. No Nazzees getting’ over tha’ hill, hah. ‘Sides, two months ago I gave m’ home address to a terrorist, an’ tha’ worked out alright—”

“You and Pepper both nearly died,” Rhodey pointed out.

“Whichis why Pepperrrr is stillin Beijing,” Tony said. “An’—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir,” Jarvis said, “but I thought I might inform you that Sergeant Barnes has regained consciousness.”

“Gimme a visual,” Rhodey demanded immediately. Jarvis obliged.

A surveillance feed of a guest bedroom came up. The cream sheets of the guest bed were flung aside and speckled with blood and grime. Doctor Banner was standing next to the bed and carefully setting aside his glasses and emptying his pockets, his gaze trained on the man with long, dark, matted hair and a socket where his left arm should be, who currently had Captain America pinned to the wall by his throat.

A second visual of the hall came up next to the first, showing a dark-skinned man with a military haircut and bearing creeping down the hall, holding a handgun. The man pressed his back to the wall as he peered around the door to take in what was going on inside of the room. Rogers spotted him, signalling for him to wait.

“It’s okay,” he said calmly, gazing intently at the man who was attempting to choke him. It didn’t sound like he was being very successful. This probably had to do with the layers of bandages wrapped around his stomach, remaining arm and left leg. Barnes was only wearing a pair of boxers, so it was easy to see that, while he was a very strong man and in good shape, he also didn’t seem to have eaten in a couple of weeks. “This is not a Hydra base,” Rogers continued. “This is not a SHIELD base. This is not any sort of military installation. This is a friend’s house. You’re safe here, Bucky.”

“Don’t—” the man’s voice was hoarse and dry and cracked. His whole body tensed and shuddered in response to the nickname. “Don’t call me that. I don’t know who that is.”

“Yes, you do,” Rogers said. “You know who I am, too, you just don’t remember yet. You _know_ you can trust me, Buck.”

“No,” Barnes growled. “You’re my mission. That’s all. I will kill you, and then they will take me back and prepare me for my next mission.”

“You don’t have to, though,” Rogers said. “You didn’t kill me. You don’t have to. You don’t have to go back, you understand? I’ll protect you. I won’t let _anybody_ take your memories from you again. I know you’re looking for them, Bucky. You were seen at the Smithsonian. Dammit, when they were chasing you, you ran to Camp Lehigh! There’s nothing there now but rubble and memories, Buck, and I’m damn sure you weren’t looking for the rubble.”

“Made good cover,” Barnes muttered.

“You were fighting them, Bucky,” Rogers aid. “You were going to die fighting them instead of go back. I know. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Barnes kept shaking his head, looking down, refusing to catch Rogers’ eye. He was starting to breathe heavily, his whole body trembling. Then he looked to his left side. “Where’s… my arm?” he asked.

“Being fixed,” Rogers told him. “It’s okay. We’re going to help you.”

Barnes was shaking so badly now that his grip shifted, no longer clutching Rogers’ neck but his shoulder, the assassin fighting to support himself.

“I don’t… need your help,” Barnes said. “I’m fine on my own. I can look after myself.”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Rogers said softly, “but that’s the thing… you don’t have to.”

His words elicited a visceral reaction in Barnes, who let go of Rogers, stumbling backwards until he hit the bed, collapsing to sit on the end of it with his head in his hand. He was shaking violently, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

“You’re safe here,” Rogers said, crouching in front of his former friend, tipping his head to try and see Barnes’ face. “You’re safe, Bucky.”

“Stop,” Barnes choked out. “STOP IT! I don’t—I can’t—” He lapsed back into harsh, panicked breathing, just on the edge of hyperventilation, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’ wanna help this guy, Rhodey,” Tony mumbled, staring into his coffee cup and then slugging it all. “I don’ wanna, but… I feel like I gotta, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. “I know.” Onscreen, Steve was patiently introducing Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner to Barnes. Banner was putting his glasses back on, apparently satisfied that further violence was not forthcoming or necessary.

“’M sorry t’do this to ya, buddy,” Tony said, sniffing. “Th’ army can’ know ‘e’s here, well, they can, but it wouldn’ end well for anybody, an’ I know you’re s’posed t’tell ‘em stuff like this, but I hadda—jus’ hadda talk t’someone, an’ Pepper’s in Beijing an’ Happy’s with ‘er, an’ you know I love you like Pepper, man, like a Pepper that I don’t wanna—”

“I get it, man, I love you too,” Rhodey said, gently taking Tony’s coffee cup to refill it. “I won’t tell anybody he’s here yet,” he said with a sigh, “but they’re looking for him, Tony. This guy’s career has scared the shit out of a lot of important people. Some’ve them just want to straight-up execute him, y’know?”

“On’y some?” Tony mumbled.

Rhodey grimaced as he brought over fresh coffee. “The files that were released online ain’t anything like this, but they do mention programming once or twice,” he said, waving a hand at Barnes’ scans. “Some people see opportunities in an assassin trained to obey, you know what I mean?”

“Pfffft… bad idea,” Tony snorted. “An’, I mean, I’ve had a _lotta_ bad ideas in my time. ‘M the _king_ of bad ideas. I _love_ bad ideas. But tha’s a _bad_ fuckin’ idea. Look at alla this shit Hydra hadda do t’control ‘im. Brain damage an’ cryo an’… shit you gotta be a Nazzee t’do. They know they’d havva be Nazzeesss? An’ even then, one looka Cap’n ‘Merica’s chissell’ jaw o’ justice is enough t’ make ‘im flip.”

“Part of the reason I ain’t gonna tell,” Rhodey said, squeezing Tony’s shoulder. “I can already tell how not well that would end, and I like believin’ not all of my higher-ups are willing to do Nazi shit. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we got a few high-level arrests and tribunals goin’ on already. We got enough shit to shovel for now.”

“I love you, man,” Tony said, dropping his coffee on the floor and giving Rhodey a drunken hug.

“You too, man, even if you are a pain in my ass,” Rhodey said, hugging back and then shifting to pull Tony’s arm over his shoulders. “You feel up to standin’ yet? You need a real bed and some sleep.”

Tony mumbled some kind of protest, but Rhodey ignored it, dragging him towards the door. He took one last glance at the display. Rogers was half-carrying Barnes towards a door that presumably led to an ensuite, talking about getting him a shower and a haircut.

“ _C’mon, man, let’s get you back to base,” he said, helping Tony into the helicopter, feeling giddy with relief. “A shower and a shave and it’ll all feel like a bad dream.” He knew that it wasn’t true, knew that those three months that he’d been imprisoned would have changed his friend permanently, even if he didn’t yet know how. All he could do was offer mundane things and try not to cry from the sheer joy that, changed or not, he finally had his best friend back._

“Good luck, Captain,” he muttered at the screen, before turning his back to drag Tony into the lift.


	24. Blast From The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Captain America: The Winter Soldier
> 
> Words: 2609
> 
> Main Character(s): Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
> 
> Notes: If Tony’s going to be giving sanctuary to a former Hydra assassin, he wants to know why. He wants to know why Steve Rogers would risk everything for Bucky Barnes, and archive footage from WW2 propaganda films might be what his curiosity is looking for.

“Sir, I have accessed the SSR archives,” Jarvis reported, jerking Tony out of his zone and back into reality. He blinked a couple of times at what he was working on, the purely technical circuits and servos and motors resolving themselves into a heavy steel arm with a red star painted on its deltoid and specks of dry blood on its fingers.

“Okay,” he said, looking up from the arm before he can think too much about it or its owner. “Remind me why that was a thing?”

“You were unsatisfied with the SSR propaganda movies featuring Sergeant Barnes,” Jarvis reminded him. “You requested the raw footage from which they were cut.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony remembered. “You found ‘em?”

“There is roughly an hour of material, sir.”

“Really? There was like six minutes of him in that Howling Commandoes newsreel thing,” Tony said. “Play it, and start machining the parts for the hand out of that carbon alloy. Should be done around the same time, right?”

“Yes, sir, if we exclude assembly.”

“I’ll do that, I’ll wanna tweak it as I’m doing it,” Tony said, rolling over to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. He wanted alcohol, _really_ wanted alcohol, but after the bender he went on the night Steve turned up with Wilson and Barnes, Rhodey not only found a way to remove all of the alcohol from Stark Tower but had spoken to Pepper and Bruce, both of whom were now conspiring against him to prevent him buying more alcohol. _I hate everyone I love,_ he thought grumpily as Jarvis started playing the grainy old black-and-white footage.

Steve was immediately recognizable, standing in front of the camera with what Tony thought of as his PR smile. “ _Is this okay?_ ” he said, looking behind the camera.

“ _Couple steps to your left, Captain,_ ” somebody behind the camera said. Steve shuffled over, putting him off-centre. “ _Today we’d like to interview you and one of your Howling Commandoes—can you tell us who your second-in-command is?_ ”

“ _Oh, that’s Bucky—Sergeant Barnes_ ,” Steve corrected himself, but he grin flickered a little when he said “Bucky”, growing wider and more genuine for a second.

“ _Alright, Sergeant Barnes? Is that you, sir?_ ” the cameraman said distantly, moving away from the camera. “ _Can you stand right up there, on the Captain’s right?_ ”

Steve’s grin got abruptly wider as he watched someone approach from off-camera, becoming something toothy and goofy and bright. Tony vaguely wondered if Steve had smiled like that at all since awakening in the future. Even the way he’d grinned when telling Tony that they’d won the Battle of New York hadn’t been more than a dim lightbulb compared to the Stark-Tower brilliance of the way he grinned at Bucky Barnes as the man walked over to join him.

It was startling, looking at Barnes. He had all the same features as the man that Steve had carried into Stark Tower a couple of days ago, but he looked completely different. He carried himself differently, easily swinging his two flesh and blood arms as he swaggered over to stand next to his best friend, smiling back. Tony hadn’t see the Winter Soldier since he’d woken up, only through video feeds, but those had been enough to see how flat and expressionless he was, how, aside from that initial moment of rage upon waking, there was nothing in his eyes at all. In the grainy, faded, black-and-white footage circa 1944, there was light visible in Barnes’ eyes that was long gone in 2014.

“ _What are we gonna do, sing a duet?_ ” Barnes said with a laugh.

“ _God no, this isn’t a silent film_ ,” Steve replied. “ _We don’t wanna deafen the folks back home with your caterwauling._ ”

“ _Focus, gentlemen,_ ” the cameraman called. “ _Alright, Sergeant, what’s it like working with Captain America_?”

“ _Oh, awful,_ ” Barnes said, rolling his eyes. “ _He’s a totally pompous asshole, always spouting off about truth and beauty and justice, striding into battle with bullets pinging off of his holy glow_ —”

“ _Speaking of assholes, guess where the shield’s going if you don’t take this seriously,_ ” Steve said, raising the aforementioned weapon. Barnes raised his hands, laughing.

“You sure this is Cap, Jarvis?” Tony commented. “This guy looks like he has a sense of humour.”

“Facial recognition is a match for Captain Rogers, sir, as are voice patterns. I am afraid that, as of yet, I have no capacity to scan for a sense of humour.”

“ _Okay… really? I don’t know. He’s still Steve to me,_ ” Barnes said with a fond grin. “ _Still gotta watch his ass when he starts fights he can’t finish, so same old, same old. I just don’t hafta listen to him coughing all the time now, is all._ ”

“ _You knew the Captain before he received the serum?_ ” the cameraman asked, sounding surprised. It sounded a lot like the man had been dragged out from under a rock and handed a camera.

“ _You sound like he just popped into existence when he got buffed up,_ ” Barnes said. “ _Nah, I knew the idiot back when he was this tall_ —” Barnes held his hand out at about waist-height.

“ _I was taller than that, you jerk,_ ” Steve said, grabbing Barnes by the wrist and dragging his hand up.

“ _Still weighed less than a sack a’ potatoes, though,_ ” Barnes said. “ _We met his first day a’ school. I was playin’ football with some other boys at break, and then everyone was runnin’ to watch a couple of guys beating up this scrawny little toddler—_ ”

“ _I wasn’t a toddler, Buck, I was five, I was only a year younger than you,_ ” Steve pointed out.

“ _I thought you were a toddler, you were so tiny,_ ” Barnes said, rolling his eyes. “ _Actually, you were so tiny and scrawny, I thought at first that the guys had taken some little girl’s doll and were kickin’ it around_ —” He jumped aside with a yelped laugh as Steve kicked at his leg.

“ _I can’t even remember why they were beating me up, now,_ ” Steve said with a shrug. “ _Okay, I was always pretty little compared to other kids, and maybe I shot my mouth off sometimes_ —”

“ _Sometimes? Your mouth was bigger than the rest of you,_ ” Barnes said. “ _I don’t even know how many times I had to come bail your stupid ass out of fights. Shoulda left you in a ditch and saved myself a lot of trouble._ ”

“ _Guess that just proves that you’re even stupider than me,_ ” Steve laughed.

“ _Hey, I’m not the dumb shit that went charging behind enemy lines and jumped into a Nazi base alone,_ ” Barnes shot back.

“ _Well, I’m not the dumb shit who got myself captured by Nazis_ ,” Steve replied. He and Barnes were still grinning at each other, bantering in a painfully brotherly way, but at mention of Barnes’ capture some stiffness had crept into their expressions, a slight shadow in their eyes that made them look much more like their 2014 counterparts. “ _Do you know how ass-backwards it was,_ me _having to come to_ your _rescue? I wouldn’t have been surprised to run past Hitler waltzing with Jesse Owens._ ”

Barnes burst out laughing at that, bent over and clutching his gut, the moment of pain and darkness gone. “ _You wanna talk about ass-backwards, pal?_ ” he choked. “ _I thought you were a goddamn hallucination. I though, this guy looks like Steve, but he’s built like one a’ those guys offa the covers of those cheap romance novels girls buy, y’know, all glowing golden hair and rippling muscles bursting outta your shirt—_ ”

“ _Carryin’ my helpless dame out of danger,_ ” Steve said, sweeping Barnes up into his arms in a bridal carry. Barnes swore viciously even as he was laughing.

“ _You gotta swoon, Barnes,_ ” somebody yelled from off the camera, probably another Howling Commando. “ _The girls in those books always swoon._ ”

“ _And how on earth do you know that?_ ”

“ _I got sisters, man, they buy that shit all the time._ ”

“ _You wanna swoon? I’ll show you a swoon_ ,” Barnes said, swinging an arm around Steve’s neck and leaning back, the back of his other hand pressed against his forehead. There were some wolf-whistles from behind the camera and somebody yelling for them to kiss.

“ _Strike a pose, Cap’n_!” one of the invisible Commandoes called. “ _C’mon, show us that heroic jawline_!” Grinning, Steve immediately struck the kind of ridiculous pose that had probably been on a hundred propaganda posters at the time, Barnes swooning in his arms.

“ _Although, I dunno,_ ” Barnes said, looking up. “ _I think I gotta open my shirt up a little more, show ‘em some of my boobs, whaddya think_?” He reached up as if to unbutton his shirt and Steve promptly dropped him.

“ _Okay, okay,_ ” the cameraman said, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “ _I’m sorry, we gotta do this again, I can’t use any of this footage. You boys gotta watch your language, okay? Less of the monkeying around. You guys are national heroes, we gotta show a good image to the kids…_ ”

“Hard to believe it’s the same guy, huh?”

“Pause, Jarvis,” Tony said, turning around to look at the doorway. Sam Wilson was standing there, holding a pizza box.

“We ordered pizza and Doctor Banner asked me to bring you some,” he said, proffering the box. “Said you were probably in the zone and hadn’t eaten.”

“Well, if it’s doctor’s orders…” Tony said, gesturing to another swivel chair. “You eating too or are you the delivery boy?”

“I can always eat more pizza,” Sam said with a grin, grabbing the chair and wheeling over to open up the pizza box. “Besides, I figured I’d hang down here for a while ‘cause I feel kinda useless upstairs. I keep getting jumpy and wantin’ to draw a gun on Barnes, but Steve and Doctor Banner both keep tellin’ me that’ll freak him out.”

“Can’t blame him, having guns pointed at me freaks _me_ out,” Tony said, rolling up a slice of pizza.

“You gotta wonder what turned _that_ guy into the Winter Soldier, don’t you?” Sam said, gesturing to the screen. Barnes and Steve were frozen in place, hands clasped as Steve pulled Barnes back to his feet. Both of them had their eyes locked on each other, grinning widely with a sheer joy that seemed to come just from being in each others’ presence. The way they mercilessly and joyfully ripped into each other reminded Tony of the way he and Rhodey pissed each other off for fun, but the way they grinned at each other made him think more of the way he felt when he looked at Pepper.

He knew, of course, what had done it, gouged out the smiles and laughter and camaraderie and left Barnes hollow and empty and dependant on orders. He’d read the horrific, clinically detailed reports of Barnes’ “treatment”. He wondered if Sam had, but if he hadn’t, Tony wasn’t going to be the one to introduce him to the reports. Not until he could get his hands on some alcohol again.

“I don’t really know why I started watching this stuff,” Tony said with a shrug. He took a big bite out of his pizza, staring up at the screen. “I dunno. Maybe I just wanted to see what Cap sees when he looks at this guy, you know? Try and get why he’s willing to risk so much for a guy that tried to kill him.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Sam said, shaking this head. “I saw this guy fight twice, both times he was tryin’ to kill both me and Steve, an’ I ain’t never seen anythin’ like it. He was like a damn machine, man. He just kept comin’, nothin’ but absolute focus, and it was terrifyin’, I don’t mind sayin’ it. An’ now he just looks… switched off, y’know? Like there’s nothin’ goin’ on up there. But I keep feelin’ like, any second, he’s gonna switch back on and we’re gonna have a goddamn assassin on our hands, tryin’ to kill us all.”

Tony nodded. “I just don’t get what Cap thinks he can do for this guy,” he admitted. “I mean, I look at that guy there—” He jerked a thumb at the screen, at Bucky Barnes’ laughing face. “—and I look through the surveillance cameras at the guy upstairs, and I just… there’s nothing left of him. Not a thing I can see, anyway. Sooner or later, Cap’s gotta realize that that guy there is dead, and that what he’s got now is a Hydra doll.”

“I tried tellin’ him that, but he’s fixed on the fact that that Hydra doll dragged him outta the Potomac,” Sam said with a sigh. “He keeps pointin’ out that that guy saved his life. Doesn’t change the fact that before he saved his life, that guy beat the shit outta him and shot him four times.”

“Yeah, but what the hell can you do about it?” Tony said, finishing off his slice and reaching for another. “Cap’s a stubborn son of a bitch. He’s got it set in his head that this guy is his buddy and that he’s going to protect him.”

“Honestly? I still feel like mercy killin’ this guy would be the best thing for everyone, especially Steve,” Sam said with a shrug, “but I don’t know if I could manage it without either of those supersoldiers snappin’ my neck first, if Steve doesn’t do it afterwards. I don’t know, man, I just feel like that guy isn’t safe for Steve in a lotta ways.”

“I hear you,” Tony said, tapping the arm lying on the table. “I promised Cap I’d make his buddy a new arm, a lighter one, and I’m gonna because lying to Captain America is probably a mortal sin, but I’m putting a few things in Cap doesn’t need to know about. It’s gonna have a remote control override so I can control it like my suits, a tracker and a shot with enough sedative to kill an elephant, so it should put him out for, like, an hour. It’s not that I don’t trust Barnes, it’s just… no, actually, that’s it. Gotta do all we can to make sure Cap’s stubbornness doesn’t get him killed.”

Sam gestured at the frozen video. “Sounds like he’s always needed somebody to do that,” he said.

“How did I end up being the dumb schmuck on Cap-protecting duty?”  Tony muttered, picking at sticky strings of cheese and draping them over the top of his slice.

“C’mon, man, it’s Captain America,” Sam laughed. “If _Captain America_ turns up at your door lookin’ for help, how can you say no?”

Tony looked up at Barnes’ fond grin. “ _I don’t know,_ ” he’d said. “ _He’s still Steve to me._ ” He thought about how he had two “friends” contact lists, one with over four hundred names on it, and one which, until recently, only had two. He thought about the way that Steve had smiled with a fixed grin that was identical to the way he smiled for PR business in the modern world, until he looked at his best friend and his smile turned into something that the world probably hadn’t seen since 1944.

“Keep it rolling, Jarvis,” Tony said, gesturing to the screen. “Dinner and a show, whaddya say?”

“Now I know what they mean when they say Tony Stark knows how to have a good time,” Sam commented, taking a bit out of his pizza and looking up at the grainy projection.

“ _Okay, gentlemen,_ ” the cameraman said, “ _let’s start from the beginning._ ”


	25. Accept This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie Following: Captain America: The Winter Soldier 
> 
> Words: 2823
> 
> Main Character(s): Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner
> 
> Notes: Writing stuff about Bucky made me think a lot about the fact that I tend to write things third-person but generally slanted towards a specific character. I worry that I risk a lot of pronoun confusion slanting things to Bucky’s POV, since I feel like at this point, he doesn’t have any name to refer to himself by. Poor, tortured, traumatised baby with PTSD. I probably should have officially warned sooner, but basically any time you see “Bucky” in the character tags, PTSD, amnesia, torture and murder are going to be involved.

He sat watching his own face in the mirror as Rogers carefully snipped away his hair.

“I’m really sorry to do this,” Rogers said, “but it’s just too matted with blood and muck to wash. But you don’t have to keep it this short if you don’t want to.”

He had no idea what that meant. The haircut was necessary. He understood this. Hair would grow back in time, and be cut again if it is deemed necessary. Those were the facts, and they were simple, easy to understand.

He looked different without his hair. He acknowledged that, but it wasn’t information of use or interest. Rogers seemed to find it of interest, though. Or perhaps upset. The blonde’s fingers hovered over some ridges on the left side of his head, no longer hidden under his long, dark hair.

“Does that hurt?” Rogers asked quietly. He was staring at the ridges as if he was in pain, as if they hurt _him_.

“It does not impair me,” he reported perfunctorily. Pain exists. Pain is only relevant to the extent that it impairs his abilities.

Rogers closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’m not asking if it _impairs_ you, Bucky,” he said, spitting the word ‘ _impairs_ ’ like it was something filthy, something disgusting. That didn’t make sense. It was the correct wording for a report. “I’m asking if it hurts.”

“Don’t call me Bucky,” he said instead. “I’m not your friend.”

“Maybe,” Rogers said, clenching his jaw, “but I’m yours, and I want to help you. Do you know what that is? In your head?”

“No,” he replied. If it was relevant, he would have been informed, but he hadn’t.

“It’s a metal plate that they put in to replace part of your skull,” Rogers explained tightly. The super-soldier looked angry, furious, ready to kill. He wasn’t sure if the anger was directed at him, if Rogers was a threat. Considering Rogers as a threat seemed wrong, somehow. “Not just that. It’s connected to electrodes that they put into your brain so they could damage it, erase your memories, and control you. Do you know that?”

“No,” he said. It had never occurred to him to question the plate in his head, any more than his left arm, the way his hearing was so much better in his left ear, his eyesight was so much better in his left eye. Questions never occurred to him. He would be told what information was relevant, and he needed nothing else.

“We can take them out,” Rogers said. “It might help you… it’ll stop hurting, at least. If you want to. Do you want to?”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t understand the question. Questions were demands for facts, for details of things that had happened. There were no facts for him to give to Rogers. “The question is irrelevant,” he said. “Proceed with all necessary procedures.”

“The question _is_ relevant,” Rogers insisted. “What you _want_ is relevant, B—” he stopped with a sigh. “You don’t want me to call you Bucky. Okay, then. What do you _want_ me to call you?”

“The name Bucky is wrong,” he said. “I am not your friend.”

“Then what are you?” Rogers pressed. “What do you want to be called?”

“I am the asset,” he replied. “I am the Winter Soldier. I am a weapon.”

“You’re a person,” Rogers stressed. “You’re not a weapon. You’re not a tool. You’re a _person_.”

“Is that what my job is now? To be a person?” he asked. Rogers’ face twitched as he scowled. The query angered the man, although he could not figure out how. Rogers was very unclear. He had no plan, no clear orders. How could anyone have followed this man into battle?

“What do you want?” Rogers repeated. He rubbed his chin. “Do you want a shave?”

“If it’s necessary,” he replied. “It’s not long enough to im—”

“I get it,” Rogers snapped angrily. He sighed, leaning back against the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I’m not. I swear. I just—I kinda want to kill everyone involved with everything that happened to you in the past seventy years. I _really_ want to kill all of them and I—okay. Look, I’ll leave you to have a shower, okay? Can you stand alright to get into the shower?”

At last, a question that he could answer. He stood. There was pain, but there was always pain, and it did not impair him.

“Okay, then,” Rogers said with a nod. “Your arm—where your arm was. Is it okay to get it wet?”

“Water is not a problem,” he said. “It will not damage me.”

“Okay then,” Rogers repeated. “I’ll go talk to Sam and Doctor Banner, okay? While you shower. If you need anything at all, you come get me, okay? Anything. No matter what.” The blond waited for a long moment, as if expecting a response, but there was no response to make. Finally, Rogers nodded with a sigh and left.

He had his orders. He removed his pants and examined his bandages. They were of a type that he knew to be waterproof. He walked over to the shower unit. There was a dial from red to blue, another from “off” to “full”. He turned the dial at “off” up a little to start the flow of water. It came not just from above, but from all directions. It was gentle. It was cold. He turned the other dial until it was warm. The cold was—he wasn’t supposed to be cold yet. He was avoiding the cold. The cold was imprisonment.

He turned up the force until it was almost at “full”. That was familiar, too, but not in the way that Rogers was familiar. It was familiar like the cold, like everything being taken and leaving him with nothing.

Turning it up a little more, and it felt like—like a hose, like being sprayed all over with a hose, _hosing off the blood_ —

{}

The guest rooms on that level had a communal kitchen area that was bigger than Sam’s first apartment. There was plenty of space for Steve to pace up and down, clenching his fists and audibly grinding his teeth.

“Trust me, Steve, that level of anger is unhealthy even when you don’t transform into an enormous green rage monster as a result,” Bruce said dryly.

“He’s in pain,” Steve growled. “I know he is. The—the stuff in his head, the plates, all of the stuff that they put in him—the eye, the ear, the arm—it’s _hurting_ him. And he doesn’t care. _They_ didn’t care, and they taught him not to care and…” He took a deep breath. “How do I help him?” he said helplessly. “How do I get him back? I don’t know what to do…”

“Okay, man, first things first, there’s something you gotta accept,” Sam said firmly, pouring Steve a cup of coffee. “I’m not saying put a bullet between his eyes. I’m not saying give up on him being a person. I’m just saying that the guy you knew in the forties? He’s gone. He’s dead. He is never gonna be that guy ever again. You are not gonna get that guy back.”

“You given this speech at one of your sessions?” Steve asked, accepting the coffee with a humourless smile.

“Actually, I learned half of this shit from the woman who does the marriage counselling, but it’s come in real handy with helpin’ my PTSD group,” Sam said levelly, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “Somethin’ that a lot of the folks back home have trouble dealin’ with is how their loved one has changed. They try to treat their partner, or sibling, or child, or buddy, or whoever, like nothin’ has changed, like their PTSD is a little thing that’s gonna fade away after a few months of everythin’ bein’ normal. And it doesn’t. Sometimes, it doesn’t ever go away. But if the person with the PTSD don’t accept that, and the people around them don’t accept that, then they can’t learn to manage it or deal with it.”

“This is a lot more than PTSD, though,” Bruce said softly.

“But the principal is the same,” Sam said. “You’re tryin’ to talk to this guy like he’s the guy you used to know and he’s _not_. Like, maybe he’ll get his memories back someday and remember all your good times in the thirties. Maybe one day he’ll start smilin’ again and tell you how much he likes blueberry muffins and complain about doing dishes. But that’s not gonna happen if you act like your best friend is there under a pile of crap and that all you have to do is clean away that crap and he’ll be good as new. That crap _is_ him. The stuff he did as the Winter Soldier? The people he killed? All that’s part of him. All that Hydra programming? _That is part of him._ You gotta deal with that, not try to just get rid of it. And if you can’t deal with it, you can’t help him deal with it. And if he doesn’t know how to look after himself, you’re gonna have to look after him. I mean, he ain’t fed himself, he ain’t had a drink of water in days, he ain’t shaved or washed himself…”

“I don’t wanna order him around, Sam,” Steve said, sounding pained. “He’s had plenty of people giving him orders already.”

“I know, man, but he’s had a week of nobody givin’ him orders, and look how well that worked out for him,” Sam pointed out. “Somethin’ else that ain’t unusual in soldiers coming back, PTSD or not: not havin’ orders can freak people out. Ain’t usually this bad, but it hits most of us. I mean, me? First two weeks back in civilian life, I was makin’ myself the same kinda crap we were eatin’ in the barracks ‘cause plannin’ meals had me lost. I had trainin’ to think on my feet—wings—to save people’s lives. I didn’t have trainin’ in choosin’ from two hundred brands of cereal. Of the two, the cereal should _not_ have been more stressful, but that happened.”

Steve nodded slowly. “When I came out of the ice, I wanted to go straight into SHIELD,” he admitted. “Fury tried giving me some space to adjust, but I ended up just…”

“Goin’ into your routines,” Sam said with a nod. “You couldn’t go cold turkey and neither can he.”

“Much as you don’t want to order him around, Steve, he needs food, he needs water, he needs a lot of rest, and if what you say about him being in pain is true, probably all of his cybernetic parts need to be removed or replaced,” Bruce sighed. “Speaking as a doctor, my feeling is that if you have to order him to take care of himself, do it. Speaking of the parts… Jarvis, did Tony find any trackers in it?”

“The tracker has been reprogrammed to bounce its signal via a server in Venzuela,” Jarvis reported. “I believe Mr Stark intends to deactivate it entirely when he begins investigating and rebuilding the arm.”

“What’s he doing now?” Bruce asked with a frown.

“Sleeping, sir. He is heavily intoxicated. Colonel Rhodes arrived and insisted that he sleep. The Colonel expresses no intent to discuss the identities of anyone in this tower, and is currently engaged in removing all alcohol from Mr Stark’s access. Mr Stark’s blood alcohol content is currently at a level not recorded since the incident referred to the tabloids as ‘the Central Park Starking’ in 2008.”

“He’s been drinking?” Sam said incredulously.

“Goddamn,” Steve muttered, rubbing his face. “This is my fault, isn’t it? Because I brought Bucky here…”

There was a blood-curdling scream that made all of them jump, and the sound of breaking glass. Steve took off running in an instant, Sam and Bruce hot on his heels. Bruce grabbed his right left wrist in his right hand, counting down his pulse under his breath.

The bathroom was a mess. Glass, water and blood covered the floor. The shower was off, but more likely turned off by Jarvis than by Barnes, who was sitting on the middle of the floor, stark naked except for his bandages, shivering with his head buried in his knees. There was blood dripping from his fist and covering his feet.

“I’ll get the medkit, you make sure he’ll let me near him,” Bruce said, running off again. Steve carefully edged towards Barnes.

“What happened?” he asked tentatively. “B—James? Do you know what’s going on?”

“Stop,” Barnes sobbed. “Stop. You don’t—stop pretending you want to help me.”

“I do want to help you,” Steve said softly.

“No you DON’T!” Barnes yelled, looking up, his eyes wild. The flat, blank expression was gone, changed to something wild and feral. “You don’t—you have no _idea_ —” he groaned, holding his shaking hand away from his face, staring at it.

“It’s your own blood, man,” Sam said tentatively. “You haven’t hurt anybody else.”

“Yes I have,” Barnes said hoarsely. “I remember… they had to hose me off. Hot water blasting over me. There was too much—we had bad intel. Was supposed to be meeting of lieutenants. Wasn’t. Family dinner. But once I was in, they saw me. No witnesses. Had to neutralize… seventeen people… extended family… grandparents and wives and little children…”

Steve was very pale, staring at Barnes without breathing. “You killed them all,” he said, sounding choked. It wasn’t a question.

“No witnesses,” Barnes whispered. “None. Couldn’t go straight back to the safe house. Couldn’t get there without being seen. Extraction team hosed off the worst…”

Sam looked up at the shower and grimaced. Trust Stark Tower to have full-body showers. At exactly the wrong force and temperature, it had triggered a memory of being hosed off, and all that came before.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve said. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“But I did it,” Barnes croaked. “I remember! I remember, and I—I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER!”

The Winter Soldier, the most feared assassin of the twentieth century, started to cry.

“James,” Bruce said, stepping into the room. “Do I have your permission to enter the room and start treating your wounds?”

Barnes stared at him in confusion, breathing harshly as tears ran down his cheeks.

“Bruce wants to help you,” Steve said softly. “I want to help you.”

“You don’t— _I_ don’t—why?” Barnes demanded.

“Because they’re both nice guys,” Sam said.

“Because if we were in the position to judge people based on how many innocent people they’ve killed, I wouldn’t be here,” Barnes said calmly.

“Say what?” Sam said, rounding on the doctor.

“You must’ve heard about my… problem,” Bruce said with a shrug. “James. Have you heard of the Hulk?”

Barnes looked confused by Bruce addressing him by his first name, but didn’t reject it as violently as he had his nickname. After a moment, he shook his head.

“I was experimenting in making super-soldier serum,” Bruce said, carefully inching towards Barnes. “It didn’t work how I wanted it to. When I get angry, I lose control and turn into a monster, and I mean literally. I have more of a handle on it these days, but… I’ve killed a lot of people in that state. Maybe I wasn’t in control of myself, maybe I didn’t know what I was doing, but I still did it. It’s not the same thing, it took me a long time to accept and deal with, and how you accept and deal will be different. But right now, what I want you to accept is that _we want to help you._ Steve’s read your file and knows everything you’ve done, and he wants to help you. We’re on his side. We want to help you.” He paused. “Unless you’re going to try killing us all. You won’t, will you?”

“…I don’t want to,” Barnes said at length. Bruce was now close enough to touch him and he didn’t seem likely to bolt or attack.

“Then,” Bruce said, slowly crouching next to him, “can I have a look at your hand and your feet? They really need to be treated.”

Slowly, Barnes extended his hand. “Proceed with all necessary procedures.” Bruce nodded, taking his hand and beginning to clean the wound.

Steve gave Sam a helpless look. _Proceed with all necessary procedures_. It didn’t sound like the other things that Barnes had said, the few times he’d spoken. It sounded like something a computer would say. It sounded like an order that he’d heard a lot, probably being spoken over his head.

But at least he was letting them help him. It was a start.


	26. Sleep Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sleep Well
> 
> Words: 1719
> 
> Main Character(s): Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
> 
> Notes: More Steve being fluffy at Bucky without him realizing it and Bucky being, in a twisted, Winter Soldier way, fluffy towards Steve without realizing it. I think it’s a testament to just how much I love this movie that I still spend as much time crying about Steve and Bucky as I do screaming “HOENN REMAKES” right now.

Bucky slept lightly and restlessly. He woke the second that Sam walked into the room, shooting upright and glancing around the room quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam said, raising his hands. “I’m just goin’ to get some sleep myself. My room’s the one across the hall, so you guys need anythin’, just scream, okay?”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Bucky’s bed, sketching. Bucky just watched Sam warily.

“You plannin’ to get any sleep yourself?” Sam asked Steve.

“I’m fine,” Steve promised, glancing at Bucky. “I’m just gonna sit guard.”

“’Kay,” Sam said, looking dubiously at Bucky before closing the door behind him. Bucky watched the closed door for a minute before lying down again.

“Get some rest,” Steve told him. “I’ll be right here if you need anything, I promise.”

“I don’t need anything,” Bucky said, closing his eyes. He was asleep in seconds. Steve smiled. It was such an endearingly familiar sight. It was one of the skills that the army didn’t officially teach you, but that everyone learned; sleeping as fast as you could, wherever you could. The only one of the Howling Commandoes who didn’t do it was Dum-Dum Dougan, and it wasn’t because he couldn’t do it, it was because he couldn’t stop snoring. He’d always wind up being woken within five minutes by somebody slamming a hand over his mouth before the noise made the Nazis start searching for planes flying overhead.

Steve looked back down to his sketch. It was from memory, a drawing of Sam in flight. _For military hardware, the Falcon wings are beautifully lined,_ he thought, sketching the curve of a wing. _Sam uses them like they’re a part of his body. He was born to them. Damn shame about his unit. Damn shame about the war…_

 Bucky seemed to be sleeping soundly, but after about half an hour, he began to mumble in his sleep. Steve didn’t know the language, but Bucky’s started muttered louder and louder, his whole body starting to twitch, his head thrashing from side to side.

“Bucky! Bucky, are you okay?” Steve said, gripping Bucky’s hand. Bucky settled down slightly, but didn’t stop mumbling and twitching. “Bucky, are you having a nightmare? Is it Hydra?”

Bucky didn’t wake, but he settled down. Steve let him go and went back to drawing, but ten minutes later he started up again.

“C’mon, Bucky, I’m here,” Steve said, setting the drawing aside again and taking Bucky’s hand. “It’s okay. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.” Bucky fell back into a quiet sleep.

After three or four repetitions of the same cycle, it struck Steve that Bucky only seemed to sleep soundly as long as he was talking to him.

“I thought you’d outgrown this, Buck,” Steve said. “Do you remember? You probably don’t, but when we were kids, I slept over at yours a lot. We used to take down the sofa cushions and blankets and make forts and have play-fights until we got tired. Well… until I got tired. Do you remember what a scrawny little kid I was? How sick I could get? And the damn asthma all the time…” he chuckled. “So you always had tons of energy left by the time I was about to sleep. But you pretended that you were tired too so I wouldn’t feel bad. And you’d ask me to read to you. I always had a book. Reading didn’t take a lot of energy.”

Bucky stayed soundly asleep, not a twitch or a mumble. The cold, blank expression of the Winter Soldier was slowly softening out of his face, making him look much more like the man that Steve used to know.

“Always put you right to sleep, but I didn’t really mind,” Steve said. “And you sat up with me a lot of nights, too. Whenever I was sick, and Mom had to work so she couldn’t stay with me… you always did, all night long. I don’t know how many times I couldn’t sleep for coughing and you were there the whole time, singing songs for me or telling me dumb stories or… or reading me my own books…” he laughed. “Kept me alive more than once, I think. Remember when I had Scarlet Fever? I thought I was gonna die. The doctor you got said I’d live if I lived until morning, but he didn’t think I would. You wouldn’t let me. You sat with me through the fever and the crazy hallucinations, kept me warm, kept me from hurting myself trying to fight off the flies I thought were eating me… you kept me breathing until morning. You saved my life, Buck. Do you remember any of that?”

Bucky didn’t respond, breathing deeply and slowly as he slept.

“I hope you do,” Steve said softly. “Even if they’ve changed who you are, that doesn’t make all that go away. That doesn’t make it not have happened. No matter what you’ve done since, all of that happened. You haven’t changed as much as you think. Look at you. You never had nightmares when you were a kid, but do you remember after I rescued you from that fort in Austria? You never talked about what Zola did to you, and you always said you weren’t having nightmares, but you did. The other guys told me about it. I didn’t know because you always slept sound next to me. In your own tent in a field camp, or sleeping in a barracks dorm with the other guys, you tossed and turned and woke up over and over all night. I never saw it. Hiding in a ditch behind enemy lines, sleeping with your head on my shoulder, you were always just fine. Slept like a baby. Just like now.”

He looked around the bland, mostly empty guest room. He smiled. “This place looks pretty opulent, doesn’t it? I had a room kinda like this just after I woke up from the ice. I mean, I couldn’t believe they could afford to give rooms like this away. There’s all this furniture in here, those paintings just to make it look nice… that door near the bed leads to a guest wardrobe bigger than the apartment I grew up in. Can you believe it? Is it nice, being in a room like this after all that time in cryo?” He sighed. “Have you noticed? Do you notice the difference between being comfortable and uncomfortable? Sam saw it straight away. I don’t know how many nights I slept on a blanket on the floor because the whole modern mattress thing was just too damn soft. Put the sofa cushions down sometimes, too.”

He looked at Bucky again. He remained in peaceful, uninterrupted sleep. “Maybe I should be writing this stuff down to say when you’re awake,” Steve admitted. “You’re just so unresponsive. It’s like you’re not here, even though you _are_. It feels too good to be true…” he leaned his head on the mattress, squeezing Bucky’s hand slightly, as if it’d vanish any second. “Can you hear me? These days they can keep people alive in a coma for years, even decades. They say that even in a coma, people can hear what’s said to them, on some level. So if some part of you can hear me… I’ll keep telling you stories until you wake up. Maybe you’ll hear me. Maybe you’ll remember something. Do you remember when you taught me to swim in the river? That summer was goddamn hot…”

{}

The Winter Soldier woke, disoriented by the warmth. Waking was something that happened in the absolute cold of the cryo-chamber, not in soft warmth.

His left arm was gone. That meant that it was being maintained or repaired, and that meant that he was in a Hydra base. But no Hydra base ever looked like the room that he was in. There was no laboratory equipment, no cryo-chamber. He was in a room that looked like a hotel room, and hotel rooms were where targets could be found, not a place to stay, _certainly_ not a place to sleep.

He then became aware that he was not alone in the room, and that unsettled him most of all. He should have instantly noticed the man that was sleeping next to him, sitting on the floor with his head on the bed. The man wasn’t Hydra, he knew that instantly. He thought that the man might be a target, but dismissed the thought. It seemed wrong.

The only thought that seemed to fit was that the man was to be protected.

The Winter Soldier was trained as an assassin, not a bodyguard, but it was the only thing that seemed to make sense. Wherever he was, he was there to protect that man, who was small and frail, even though he was simultaneously huge and strong and could bend steel with his bare hands. The Winter Soldier had seen it, he was sure, even if he didn’t remember when or where.

 None of it made sense, but it didn’t have to. He had a mission, and would follow it. And that meant he had to get up and establish the area.

He sat up, points of pain indicating where he had been damaged in his right arm, left leg and side, making it likely that his left arm had also been damaged and removed for repairs. The damage was not severe, though, so why was he convalescing? Where were his weapons?

As he sat up, the blonde man stirred. “Hey, lie down,” he said, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his eyes. “You’ll aggravate your injuries.”

The injuries were not important, but he had an order. The Winter Soldier laid down.

“Did you sleep well?” the man asked.

The Winter Soldier didn’t know how to answer the question. The sleep had been odd, full of disconnected visions of meaningless thinks like a sofa, or a book, or a river. None of it made any sense, or had any relevance, so there was no need to concern himself or this man with them. The important thing was to get back to work, to convince this man, his mission, that he was capable of his duty.

“I did,” he said. 


End file.
